Encroaching Darkness
by Ecri
Summary: Epilogue: Part 35! STORY COMPLETE! What danger lurks in Middle-earth?
1. Default Chapter

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Author's Note: I don't claim to be an expert on Tolkien's world, though I have read the books many times. If something within this story seems not to ring true to your interpretation of Middle-earth, all I can say is please have an open mind. This is the direction I was inspired to go, and I do it from a great love of and respect for Tolkien's work.

The inspiration for this story comes directly from a passage in The Fellowship of the Ring, where Frodo asks Aragorn why he didn't come right out and say he was a friend of Gandalf's. Aragorn replied that he had to make sure of Frodo first, as though he could not simply trust the hobbit. He says, and I quote directly: 

"I had to study _you_ first and make sure of you. The Enemy has set traps for me before now." (J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, Chapter 10, Strider.)

This just suggested all sorts of things to my feverishly obsessedI meanto my creative imagination.

Anyway, that's the impetus for this story and I hope you like it. For the purposes of this fiction, I use the same family history for Legolas as I have used in my previous fics. You don't need to have read any of those to read this.

Elvish is in _italics_ and comes from many sources. They are _The Silmarillion_ by J.R.R. Tolkien, the website councilofelrond.com and _The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth_ by Ruth S. Noel. I've never really tried to speak elvish, so if there are any inaccuracies here, they are my own mistakes. (Feel free to correct me, but please give me sources so I can learn as much as I can about Elvish.)

The elvish names I have made up were either from the sources above or from the Elvish Name Generator.

Legolas' family history is my own invention. Forgive me if the history I invented doesn't quite match your own.

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this.

Please read and review. Please

Encroaching Darkness by Ecri

Part 1

The Great Eye lingered long at the doors of Imladris, but through some device of Lord Elrond, could not see inside the protected realm. In frustration, Sauron seethed. The one who could yet undo him was alive! In Imladris! When the first flames of anger had been spent, and only dark thoughts and cold intentions remained, Sauron knew he would take his revenge. The man who could be his downfall might be beyond his reach right now, but that would not always be the case.  
  
Sauron would devise plan after plan and would cut the man down in every possible way. Sauron would use his minions to destroy this man, and if he could not reach the man immediately, he would wait. He was patient.

  
He had sent his soldiers, such as they were to find the man who most threatened him. Once he had taken care of him, he would be free to find the One Ring.

**

Aragorn rode with almost lazy disinterest in his surroundings and his speed. He would soon approach the Mountain Pass, and from there it would be a swift ride to Mirkwood. Legolas would be surprised to see him so soon, but Aragorn could not put off the visit any longer. Legolas had done a lot for him recently, and Aragorn felt the need to speak again to his staunchest friend and newest Elven brother.

As he rode, Aragorn became aware of a sound behind him. He halted his horse and listened, frowning at what he detected. Orcs. He moved quickly and quietly through the brush and concealed himself willing his horse to be quiet and still. He was not a cowardly man, but he was alone, and only a fool sought to engage a company of orcs alone.

The orcs stepped into Aragorn's line of sight. Twenty-eight in all stood there, and Aragorn wished he had stopped at nightfall. He might have avoided this, but he had been so close to the pass and so happy to be on his way to see Legolas again. Shoving such thoughts aside, he drew his sword. He would not engage them first.

His options were stolen from him when one of the orcs stopped his companions and sniffed the air. A slow, evil grin spread across his hideous face. "I smell manflesh!" It all but growled the words. The others, excited by his revelation began to sniff the air as well. Aragorn backed away, but in the end, they found him, and before engaging them, he urged his horse to take off through the trees. He would catch up with it later.

He fought, swinging his sword and killing or maiming many of them. One approached him waving his blade and growling in anger at the damage Aragorn had already done. 

  
Aragorn faced the fell creature bringing his sword down and across the orc's body, slicing a painful gash across its belly. The orc was further enraged by the pain. Leaping forward menacingly, he thrust the blade at Aragorn, who stepped back and ducked down in an attempt to avoid the blow. His foot came down on stone made slippery by the foul black orc blood that seemed to be everywhere. Losing his balance, Aragorn fell, his head seeming to strike the stone. The orc screamed at the fallen human but Aragorn didn't move. The orcs stood in a circle chortling at their success. 

The orcs pulled roughly on the man's arms, already arguing over whether they could take a taste of the flesh and still deliver the man, alive, to their master, when with no warning the limp figure stiffened and lashed out with his legs catching one and then the other unaware. Fighting orcs with no weapon was not a common thing, but this human seemed not common. 

  
The band of orcs scattered, turning to surround him. Aragorn judged their distance and knew he had to find another way out of this predicament. With his sword lying out of reach, he knew he had few options. He glanced down at his feet, and, seeing a large stone, picked it up and threw it at the nearest orc. It struck the vile creature on the head, and he went down to lie unmoving on the ground.

The others moved closer, angered by the human's brief victory. Screaming at him, they lashed out at him with their swords. He moved, trying to keep his distance, and dancing about the clearing. One arrow struck him in the shoulder, the force of it at so close a range spinning him around. Disoriented, he fell to the ground as one of them tackled him from behind. He struck his head hard against the same rock he'd used to fell one beast, and lost consciousness.

**

The Gate granting entrance to the Palace grounds of Mirkwood was in sight as Legolas rode swiftly home. Mirkwood's youngest prince had been pleased to have such an uneventful patrol. The uncommon stillness of the forest was a welcome relief after the worries and concerns he'd recently endured over Estel's well being. Legolas shuddered at the thought. Losing Aragorn, Son of Arathorn would have doomed Middle-earth to darkness, but losing Estel would have robbed Legolas himself of hope, and perhaps, if the grief were strong enough, of life itself.

Legolas glanced then to the other rider to his left. His brother Tarmathlion had insisted on coming on the patrol with him, and Legolas could not help but wonder why. Tarmathlion, though closer in age to Legolas, was least like his younger brother. They loved each other fiercely, but they rarely saw eye to eye on matters of importance. Tarmathlion, though holding no ill will against Aragorn, had never been comfortable with the friendship that blossomed between the two. 

Legolas held back a sigh as he considered that. That two whom he loved as he loved Tarmathalion and Estel did not love each other hurt him deeply. Truly, of all his family, only Aglarelen, his oldest brother, seemed to understand Legolas' friendship with the human, and only Aglarelen also counted Elrond's youngest son as a friend himself.

Tarmathalion, as though hearing his brother's thoughts, smiled though he did not turn his head to face his young sibling. "Legolas, you ride with a head full of other things. Did you not learn of the need for focus while riding through Mirkwood?"

Legolas laughed at his brother's teasing tone. "Nay, my brother. I had never thought to be diligent or cautious while on patrol in the darkest of elven realms! Truly you have opened my eyes!" 

Tarmathlion seemed to consider his brother's words as though they were the weightiest he'd ever heard. "Then perhaps you have also not learned not to give an opponent a lead!" With that, he urged his horse forward into a gallop, leaving Legolas staring after him for a moment, before he, too, joined in the race.

Several minutes later, the two sped through the now-open gates of Mirkwood's courtyard. Legolas was breathless with laughter and exhaustion, and his face was flushed. "I won that race, though you took unfair advantage! Admit it, Tarm!"

Tarmathlion laughed. "Indeed, I must admit it! You and that horse move as one, Legolas!"

Happily, the brother's tended their horses, slipping easily into the banter of long association. When they'd finished, and the horses were clean, cool, fed, and watered, the brothers headed toward their father's court to offer their official report to their King.

When they entered the room, and Legolas saw who stood speaking to Thranduil, his eyes widened in disbelief and joy. "Elladan! Elohir!" Legolas moved quickly to his friends' sides. His father did not begrudge his son's forgoing the formalities of court, since Legolas so rarely saw his friends.

"Legolas!" The brothers greeted Mirkwood's prince, then turned to greet his older brother as well.

Thranduil cleared his throat. "My sons, if you have no dire news to report from your patrol, we will wave that for the moment. Elrond's sons have come with disquieting news.

  
Legolas was immediately serious. "What is it? What has happened?"

"We rode here expecting to find Estel. We had planned to meet him here, but your father says he has not come." Elrohir tried to hide his anxiety. He knew Estel was a capable young man, but he was also dependable. If he said he would be in Mirkwood, he should be there.

Legolas frowned. "When did he leave Imladris?"

"A month ago." Elladan admitted.

"And he came straight here?"

"That was his plan." 

Legolas turned to his father. "_Adar,_ we must search for him. He should have been here nearly two weeks ago. I must ride out myself!"

Thranduil had known when Elladan and Elrohir had told him their tale that his son would be among the first to volunteer to begin the search. His heart worried for his youngest son, since he had known so few mortals in his long life. The idea that Estel would depart this world before him already haunted Legolas. If the man were to meet his end sooner than expectation decreed, Thranduil knew Legolas would grieve.

He kept this to himself, however, and nodded at his son's suggestion. "I will call forth our patrols and begin to search Mirkwood. If he is here, we will find him."

Elladan stepped forward, formally addressing the King. "I thank you, Your Majesty, and I am sure my father thanks you, too."

Thranduil nodded.

Elladan turned to his brother and Legolas. "I believe we should make a search of the mountain pass. That is the most likely spot for him to have found trouble."

Legolas agreed, and turned to his father again. "_Adar,_ I must request to be relieved of my patrol duties to join the search."

Thranduil smiled. No matter how his heart urged him to run to his friend, Legolas' sense of duty would see all responsibilities dispatched before he could leave. "It is well, my son. Go and find your friend."

Legolas departed to make preparations for their trip, while Elladan and Elrohir were offered food and drink and any supplies they cared to take with them.

Legolas packed lightly, taking mostly extra arrows and bowstrings as well as his whetstone and knives. As he packed he became aware of someone staring at him. He looked up to find the source and saw Aglarelen standing in the doorway to his room.

"Aglarelen! I"

"I know, brother. Tarmathlion came running to find me with the news. He expects me to stop you."

Legolas nodded. He had expected that. "But you will not."

Aglarelen laughed. "Me? Stop you? I would go with you, but father has forbidden it. He has need of my negotiation skills when next we meet with the men of Laketown." Aglarelen looked as though he would like nothing better than to disregard his father's wishes.

Legolas stopped packing and moved to stand before his dearest of brothers. "It is well, Aglarelen. I will travel with Elladan and Elrohir at least part of the way." He paused and poured all the urgency he could muster into his next words. "I must find him."

Aglarelen smiled sadly. "You will. Just do not take great risks with your life while you are about it, for yours is the only life in Middle-earth of any importance to me."

Legolas nodded and embraced his brother. Then, packing his last few belongings, he slipped out of the door.

Aglarelen watched him go with a sense of foreboding unsettling his spirit.

**

Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas searched Mirkwood as they headed in the direction of the Mountain Pass Estel must surely have taken to reach his friend's home. Their worry and anxiety for their missing friend and brother mounted with the passing of each minute.

Drawing their horses to a halt, the trio regarded each other. Elrohir spoke first. "We have seen no sign of him. He probably did not make it as far as Mirkwood. He is either lost in the Pass or somewhere before it."

Legolas nodded. "We should split up. We will cover more ground and stand a better chance of finding him."

The twins looked at each other in silent communication. Their concern for their brother overriding all others, they agreed. Choosing directions and a place and time to meet later, the three elves parted company.

**

Legolas had traced all of his friend's likeliest routes to the edge of Mirkwood, but had not seen a single sign that he had been there. He had left Elladan and Elrohir behind a week ago and had ridden far from the Mountain Pass hoping to find some sign of his friend.

The Ranger had a knack for finding trouble in the most untroublesome regions on Middle-earth. Somehow, Legolas had to find him soon. If he had injured himself beyond his own capabilities to heal, he could be near death. The thought struck fear in his heart for a moment, but he realized he didn't believe Estel had died. He was sure, Iluvatar would have told him of it. He had vowed to follow the man through any trial to see him on his throne. His song and Aragorn's were likely close harmonies. Legolas had no doubt he would have known if that harmony had ceased.

The sound of orcs met his ears, and he dismounted rapidly, leading his horse away from the path the creatures had chosen. 

Legolas would normally have moved on, giving the orcs a wide berth and going on about his own business. Now, he felt compelled to watch them, though he knew not why. 

As he pondered his strong compunction to watch from concealment, he saw a sight that stopped his heart. Aragorn walked behind one of the orcs, bound with rope and bleeding from both head and shoulder.

Anger and fear for his friend warred in Legolas' heart, and he took a moment to control his emotions. Pushing them aside, he considered his options. He was alone, and was not a match for the more than 20 orcs who held his friend. He could not attack without help. He could ride to find Elladan and Elrohir, but even three elves might be hard pressed to defeat so many orcs. Aside from that, the minions of Mordor could turn from this path at any time, and Legolas knew not their destination. 

Grim determination to see his friend free settled over the elf. With little time to devise a plan, Legolas followed his well-honed instincts and prayed Iluvatar deliver them. When the orcs had moved out of earshot, he took swiftly to the trees to follow, trusting his horse, Fëagaladhad, to follow at a distance.

**

Elladan and Elrohir had scoured the mountains and had rejoined each other at the prearranged time and place. They waited impatiently for Legolas. When he didn't arrive after a day and a half, Elladan vented his not inconsiderable frustration. "We lose one, and in looking for him, lose the other! Elbereth! They should have been twins, they are so alike!"

  
Elrohir smiled. "Truly no two people of different races could be so alike in their affinity for trouble!" He sobered then and looked at his brother. "You do not think something has happened to Legolas?"

Elladan shrugged. "I know not, but I do know I am not riding back to Mirkwood to explain to the King and his other sons that we have misplaced Legolas! Come. We will go where he did and see if we can find him."

Elrohir agreed and they began to cover the ground Legolas had covered. Elrohir glanced over his shoulder then, a shiver chasing itself down his spine. He shrugged off the foreboding and followed Elladan.

**

Legolas watched the orcs wondering why they kept Aragorn alive. They would usually have quickly dispatched a lone traveler. He was grateful, to be sure, but wondered if they might not have other orders, and if so, who had issued those orders.

He dared not waste much effort on such conundrums, for his attention was needed here. His concentration was shattered then, when he heard a sound he knew boded ill for his friend. A pack of wolves surrounded the company or orcs and snarled at them.

Legolas watched the animals carefully, especially the one that approached Aragorn. His friend was vulnerable bound as he was and weaponless. Legolas had taken advantage of his vantage point, however, and had determined which orc carried Aragorn's sword.

  
Waiting for the wolves or orcs to make the first move, he readied his bow, nocking an arrow and aiming at the orc who carried Aragorn's weapon. When chaos took over, he would kill the orc and relieve him of his burden.

A wolf stepped closer to the lead orc, and, growling launched himself at it. In that instant, Legolas' arrow sped through the air and found its target. In one fluid motion, he leaped to the ground close to the orc he'd felled and liberated Aragorn's sword.

Moving with elven speed, he raced to Aragorn's side, unsheathed his knife and used it to slit through the ropes at Aragorn's hand. At the same time, he used Aragorn's recently liberated sword to sever the rope that the orc leading him had used as a leash, twisting then to land at Aragorn's feet on his knees, the sword in his hands and offered up to the man.

  
Aragorn smiled, not wondering that his friend had both found him and made a spectacular entrance. Once Aragorn took the sword, Legolas leaped to his feet, his bow appearing in his hands as if by magic, arrow nocked and ready. Aragorn felt the sword in his hands, hefting it slightly, and facing the wolves and orcs by his friend's side as seemed so often to be the case. 

He struck out then at one wolf that snarled at him. He injured it, and turned towards the sounds of battle behind him. The wolves were also not quite desperate enough to linger in the face of resistance. The orcs dispatched the last of the wolves, leaving Legolas and Aragorn to handle those orcs the wolves had not killed.

Aragorn killed the last orc still standing and turned, scanning the area for his elven friend.

  
He saw Legolas then struggling with an orc who cared less for elves than for wolves. He pulled the orc from atop Legolas running it through and tossing it aside as though it was nothing more than a doll. 

  
Aragorn reached a hand to the Elf. "Are you all right?"

Legolas looked up, grateful. He had been unable to dislodge the creature though it had not done him any great injury. "I am well." He climbed to his feet. "I thank you."

Legolas offered an arm to Aragorn, who, though he had picked up many other scratches, bruises, and gashes in addition to his head and shoulder injuries, refused it. 

He smiled at the human's stubbornness, and then he whistled once, long and loud. In moments, his horse appeared. Legolas helped Aragorn mount, then leaped up behind him. Fëagaladhad needed no urging to take them far away.

**

The Eye watched through his spies and other means. He would destroy that human and then he would be free to find the Ring.

Calling upon his minions, he set other plans in motion. The arrival of the elf and subsequent escape of the human angered him, but he was not without options. No one would get in his way. Certainly not the Firstborn!

He sent his will through The Seeing Stones, passing his plan to the one who could do it. He would make the elves tremble in fear to aid this man if his current plan failed. He would make them cast out the human as one too troublesome with which to bother.

His servants did his bidding and began to work.

**

Legolas held tightly to his friend overjoyed to have found the Ranger. He knew the man had been hurt, and his wounds needed tending, but he had no thought to stop until he was well away from the clearing in case more orcs or wolves roamed.

Aragorn shifted slightly. "Legolas?"

"Yes, _mellonin_? Are you well?"

"I am well enough. _Hannonle,_ _gwadornin" _(Thank you my brother.)

Legolas smiled. "You are most welcome."

"Legolas?"

"Yes, my friend?"

"How did you find me?"   
  
"We were searching. Your brothers and I decided to split up at the Mountain Pass. I was lucky enough to choose the right direction."

They had ridden all day when Legolas eyed the position of the sun and decided that they should stop for the evening. He brought Fëagaladhad to a stop and eased his semi-conscious friend to the ground. Aragorn snapped awake then. "What is it?"

__

"We stop for rest here."

Aragorn nodded and roused himself to help make camp.

"_Mellonin,_ you must rest!" Legolas insisted. "We will meet soon with your brothers, for surely they will be coming to find us. I want you at least on your way to being well when they arrive!" Legolas forced his friend to sit. Then he handed him water and lembas. "I am afraid that is all I have."

Aragorn nodded, eating what was offered. "I have not had the waybread in sometime."

Legolas stared at his friend long after Aragorn had stopped eating and drifted off to sleep. Reveling in his presence, the elf tended his friend's wounds. Most were not serious, but they were many, and had greatly reduced his friend's stamina. The shoulder wound had not been poisoned, and the head wound, though worrisome, seemed to be closing. Legolas wrapped the worst injuries, and applied what little athelas he carried. Then, having done all he could, he took up watch. It would be likely that he'd have to stay awake the entire night, but it would not be a problem.

As Legolas sat in watch over his still recovering friend, he felt something familiar yet unwelcome. He nocked his bow and scanned the trees for some sign of danger

As he watched the camp perimeter, an old man appeared. When he took in the form of the elf warrior, bow at the ready, he put up his hands in shocked surprise. "Do not shoot master elf! I mean no harm! I will go on my way!"

"Wait!" Legolas lowered the bow. He felt no threat from this man, and the evil shadow had not appeared. "I mean no harm myself. I only watch for threat. Why are you traveling alone at night?"

The man shuffled unsteadily forward. "I am trying to reach my son who lived in the next settlement. He was injured in an accident and I must go to him."

Legolas indicated his fire. "You may rest here for a moment before pressing on, if you like."

The man smiled happily, but to Legolas, it seemed unnatural somehow. Making room for the man by the fire, Legolas remained standing, his hands still holding to arrow and bow.

The man settled down slowly as though old age and pain kept him from moving. Legolas spared a glance then to be sure Aragorn was well. It was in that moment that the old man stood shaking off both the cloak and the guise of old age.

  
Legolas turned towards him, but saw only a burning white light. Shielding his eyes, he took a step backwards before finding he could not move at all. The voice came next assaulting the elf with words of the Black Speech, and Legolas felt himself shiver at the sound. 

A cold gripped him then, and he felt it take hold of his heart. The Black Speech gave way to evil laughter as he passed out, hitting the ground, his last conscious thoughts that he had left his friend vulnerable and alone. He had failed.

To Be Continued


	2. part 2

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Author's Note: This chapter reveals what was done to Legolas at the end of the last. I have been toying with this idea for a really long time, but resisted writing it, especially after having read a few stored on fanfiction.net that dealt brilliantly with a similar themeor should I say affliction? My muse won out, finally, and here's my take on a staple idea of LOTR fanfiction. Give it a chance. I write plenty of angst to make it worthwhile. 

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this.

See replies to reviews at the bottom.

Please read and review. 

Encroaching Darkness by Ecri

Part 2

Sauron watched through Saruman's eyes as his wizard placed his curse upon the unfortunate elf who had befriended Isildur's Heir. The elf had placed himself between this man who would be king and Sauron's plans. It was inevitable that Sauron would have to make the elf suffer for such effrontery.

Saruman's eyes beheld the elf falling and hitting the ground, and Sauron realized, without the elf's protecting presence, he could easily have Saruman dispatch the human and be rid of his troubles. Saruman was devious and had planned ahead believing Sauron would ask this of him. He crept cautiously towards the sleeping human and first cast a spell over both elf and man to keep them sleeping. He then took up the Ranger's water skin and whispering a few more words in the Black Speech that, even in his unnatural unconscious state caused Legolas to moan as though in great pain, Saruman slipped several herbs into the water. Shaking it gently, he placed the tainted water back where it belonged. 

The Wizard cast a last look at the elf. Pity his lord had such specific plans for the creature, for this youngest of Mirkwood's princes would make a fine specimen. Saruman nearly salivated over the thought of the orc that could be made from such an elf, or indeed, what new creature could be formed within the elf's skin. He paused, asking his master if he might take the elf after all, restore him, and use him as he had so many others of the Firstborn. Something about this elfhis affinity for Middle-earth was stronger than any other elf Saruman had met. Perhaps because he was the last born of this place. Any others to come along would be born in Valinor, though even that seemed unlikely, as even this youngster had passed the age when most elves thought of such things.

Sauron's answer came back to him, the force of it taking Saruman's balance. As he stumbled to remain upright in the face of such anger, Saruman apologized to the Dark Lord. Sauron's needs would come first.

  
The Istar secretly hoped one day to get his hands on the elf, whenever Sauron was finished with him. Silently, he left the camp. He ordered several wargs, birds, and other spies to remain behind and report to him so he might report to Sauron. With a great, calm, cold anticipation for the suffering he would witness, Saruman's mouth quirked into a gruesome mockery of a smile.

**

Aragorn woke feeling both refreshed and hung over, though he hardly knew how it was possible to feel both. His eyes moved of their own will towards the sky. The sun was high overhead. Legolas must have let him sleep. He rolled over slightly and his gaze fell on his elf friend. His heart leaped into his throat threatening to choke him. Legolas lay still on the ground in an unnatural position, and with an unnatural stillness. It was as though he'd been tossed there like a discarded rag.

  
Aragorn scrambled to his friend's side on hands and knees, too frantic to waste time getting to his feet. "Legolas!" He called as he took the elf's hand. Aragorn's eyes were wide with fear as he examined the elf for injury. Finding nothing, he called again. "Legolas! Awake my friend! Legolas!"

He was heartened to hear a low moan and then Legolas' eyes blinked open, though it seemed a great chore for him to do so. "Estel?"

Aragorn nodded. "_Hananin, Legolas_." (It is me.) "Can you rise?"

Legolas nodded and struggled to sit. Once upright, his eyes flew open and he turned his head to take in his surroundings. Aragorn could plainly see the fear on Legolas' face.

"What is it? What do you see?"

Legolas shook his head again. "It is rather what I do not hear. The Song" Disbelief and horror were clear upon his face. "it is gone. I hear it not."

It took Aragorn several moments to understand what Legolas was telling him. "The Song? Iluvatar's Song? How can that be?"

Legolas' eyes still drifted over everything. "I know not." The soft whisper held more grief than Aragorn would have thought possible.

"What do you remember of last night, my friend?" Aragorn knew that all was well when he'd gone to sleep. Something must have happened after that.

Legolas thought back, but could recall nothing. Fear came back to his eyes, and he looked into Aragorn's for the first time. "I do not remember. There is no thought in my mind after bidding you good night. I see only a blinding light, andI feel a great paina familiar pain" He forced his mind to bring forth images it would not release to him. "Ai! Elbereth! I cannot remember!" He raised his hands to cover his eyes and sat rocking slightly. 

Aragorn swallowed hard. He had never seen Legolas in such a state, and he had thought he had seen the elf at his lowest points. What could this mean? He had no familiarity with a malady of this kind. He could not see any way for him to help. Athelas could not heal a broken memory, nor could it restore Iluvatar's song to an elf! In truth, Aragorn had never heard of an elf losing touch with the Song.

He looked at his friend, taking in the sorrow and disbelief exuded by the slowly rocking form. There was only one course of action he could think to take. "Come, Legolas. We will go to Elrond. He will be able to help you."

Legolas brought his hands slowly away from his face. Elrond! Yes! The elf lord would surely know what to do! He was easily four times as old as Legolas. Surely he had seen such as this before! He nodded, suddenly embarrassed by his emotional breakdown. He was meant to be looking after Aragorn, not the other way around! He would not fail. He got to his feet and helped Aragorn break down camp.

**

Elrohir gazed up at the sky as he and Elladan slowed to a stop. "Winter comes early, my brother." He gestured upwards to the darkening sky, knowing the clouds held snow, not rain, by the feel of the air on his skin.

Elladan followed his brother's line of sight. "I fear you are right. We must find them before the storm hits."

The younger twin nodded at his older brother hesitant to admit what thoughts haunted him. "I fear it might be too late. Something dark had touched my mind, and I believe Estel is in more danger than we'd thought." 

  
Elladan nodded. "I feel that as well, Elrohir, but we must believe he is_they are_ well."

They traveled another two hours before the snow began to drift down. In moments, the light flurry became a raging storm, and the twins could barely see each other though they rode only a few feet apart.

"We must find shelter!" Elrohir shouted at Elladan. Without warning, Elladan's hand shot towards him and took hold of his horse's mane. Elrohir allowed his brother to lead him. In a few moments, they rode into a large cavern finding a respite from the falling snow.

**

Aragorn felt the chill settling through the air and knew a storm approached. Why this filled him with dread he could not tell. His wounds were not so severe as to cause concern, though they had begun to bleed again. They could not be more than a few days ride from Imladris, so an early winter storm, so often mild by any standards, would not be much of a hindrance. He pondered these thoughts for some time, not noticing the flurry of snow when it began. When he finally became aware of it, the snow had piled high upon the ground.

He turned then to Legolas, prepared to make a quip about the elf's greater stamina in withstanding such conditions to alleviate any worry his friend might have over his strange malady—being cut off from the Great Song was hard on his friend, he knew. When he glanced behind his shoulder toward the elf, however, a new fear gripped the Ranger. Legolas' attention was neither on their surroundings, nor on the worsening weather. Legolas clung to Aragorn, and, though Aragorn had thought this was for his own benefit, the Elf was obviously in need of support as well. He seemed in pain and great shivers wracked his body. 

"Legolas? _Mellonoin,_ what is it?"

It took several moments for Legolas to acknowledge his words, and when he did look at his friend, Aragorn was shocked at his appearance. The shivers continued to wrack his lithe form, and his lips had taken on a slight blue tinge. His face was red, bitten by wind and falling snow, and in his eyes he held the deepest sorrow Aragorn had beheld.

Aragorn dismounted careful not to allow his friend to fall. "Legolas!" He reached up, placing a hand on Legolas' arm, causing the elf to look down at him. Legolas, overbalanced, slipped from the horse's back and into Aragorn's arms. Aragorn struggled, not expecting the sudden fall, and Legolas seemed heavier than normal. Easing the elf to the ground, he leaned in close. "Legolas, my friend? What is it? What's wrong?"

The confusion in Legolas' eyes multiplied his fear. "Estel, I know not how, but this cold is more than I can bear. I have never felt this before. My limbs seem not my own. I cannot feel my feet or handsEstel, help me."

The anguish in Legolas' quiet voice pierced the Ranger's heart. "Easy, _mellonin,_ I will find shelter and we will work through this oddity together."

He scanned the area, finding a small copse of trees with branches so tightly entwined that little snow could reach the ground. He moved to lift Legolas, but the stubborn elf batted his hands away and stood, prepared to walk to the copse. 

Struggling to his feet, Legolas looked down with horror at the place where he stood. He took a tentative step, thinking perhaps the vision would shatter, but it did not. He looked then to Aragorn, who wore an identical expression on his face. "What has happened? What could do this?"

  
Aragorn shook his head amazed at the sight of Legolas sinking deep into the snow. "I know not, my friend, but let me help you."

Legolas considered this, but stubbornly shook his head. If he were doomed to walk as mortal men, he would do it. He turned again towards the copse of trees and took several steps before a great gust of wind blew him backwards sending him sprawling.

  
Aragorn was by his side then, lifting the startled elf and carrying him to the shelter. Once he'd settled the elf against a tree, he moved to the horse that had followed. He pulled a blanket from Legolas' packs—one Legolas had likely packed knowing his friend would need it on the long journey to Imladris—and placed it over the elf. He then settled to work building a fire and preparing a hot broth hoping to warm Legolas from the inside.

Legolas was sipping carefully at his second cup of broth when he finally felt capable of speaking about his odd ailments. "I know not what has happened, but this must be connected to the Song." He paused, pondering it all, a fear gripping his heart that he was not yet prepared to share, even with his dearest friend. Keeping it to himself for now, he waited for Aragorn's speculation. He was, after all, Lord Elrond's son. If anyone had heard of such a malady as afflicted him it would be the great Elf Lord.

"I know why you look to me with such hope in your eyes, but I am afraid I can be of no help. I know nothing of any sort of affliction that could do this to an elf, and as you have been neither pierced by any poisoned arrows, nor bitten by any creatures that I can tell, I know not what can be causing this." Aragorn studied Legolas' tired eyes, and sunken features. It was as though he saw his friend for the first time. His heart sunk as he realized he had recognized a new symptom. "I am sorry, _mellonin_, but your glow is gone as well. But for your ears, and the way you wear your hair, you could pass for a manor perhaps a boy, for you still seem ageless."

Legolas dropped his eyes to take in his appearance. Indeed, his glow was gone, and he sat in darkness. Darknesssomething dark

"The Black Speech" he whispered.

"What? What about it?" Aragorn demanded, his heart skipping a beat.

"I heard it."

  
Aragorn placed a hand on Legolas brow to check for fever.

Irritated, Legolas shook it off, but his thoughts returned to the scrap of memory he'd managed to find. "I heard the Black Speech last night after you slept. I know not what it said. I know no more of what happened, but I remember the sounds and the menacing chill I felt." He looked intently at Aragorn. "Something evil has done this."

Aragorn knew then, and guilt permeated him. "It is the Enemy. He seeks to destroy you. It is my"

Legolas held a finger to Aragorn's lips. "Do not speak so. There is no fault; there is no blame. If you are right and the Enemy has a hand in this, we cannot waste time in finding an answer, for surely as he has done this, it is not all he plans to do."

Aragorn nodded. There was no time for such thoughts. They had to find a way to reverse this. "Lord Elrond will know what to do. If he has not a cure, he will find one."

Legolas nodded. _"Hannonle, mellonin."_ Still shivering from the cold, Legolas had another question for his friend. "How do you withstand this? I have never endured such a feeling!"

  
Aragorn laughed and sat close to his friend, bringing a second blanket from his pack and huddling near the elf to share their warmth. "I suppose I am accustomed to feeling it, so it no longer affects me."

"How you can be accustomed to such as this I fear I will never understand!" Legolas mumbled as he settled beneath the blankets.

**

Elladan and Elrohir picked their way carefully across the snow leading their horses. It was midmorning, and the snow had stopped just before dawn. They had decided not to burden their mounts by riding them in such a heavy snowfall, so their progress was slow.

"If Legolas hasn't found him, and Aragorn is alone in this"

Elladan cut off his brother's speech. "We do not need to think on such things. Wherever he is, Estel is well able to care for himself."

"Unless he is hurt."

"Well, we will have to assume he is not hurt."

Elrohir nodded, but felt no better. "Come, then let us move as quickly as we may."

**

Aragorn awoke to a quiet camp. Opening his eyes, he was startled to find Legolas not beside him. Scanning the area, he caught sight of a blond head a short distance away balanced precariously in a tree.

  
Joining his friend, he asked the obvious, unnecessary question. "What are you doing?"

Startled by his approach, Legolas lost his grip and slipped from the branch on which he stood. Aragorn moved forward then, but knew he could do nothing.

  
Legolas regained his balance, and shifted his weight, leaping to the ground in his accustomed manner, but shocked by his inability to execute the moves as well as he always had. Legolas had been climbing trees almost before he could walk. The trees had become as natural a habitat for him as the sky was for a bird. When he'd awoken this morning, he'd forgotten his malady, his memory taking its cue from centuries of ritual and sending him up into the nearest tree. He'd planned on scanning the area to see how severely the snow would hinder their day's travel when he'd realized he wasn't climbing as he should have been. His body wouldn't do as he wished it. Muscle memory wasn't enough as it made demands on muscles altered somehow by some evil spell. If he had not realized it before, it came home to him now, as, aloft in the trees, he struggled to maintain balance. He hadn't heard the human approach, and hearing his concerned voice almost tumbled Legolas from the tree.

"What are you doing?" Aragorn's voice reached him.

Legolas took a moment to regain both his physical and emotional equilibrium and then leaped from the tree to land shakily upon the ground with less than his usual grace. "I meant to survey our road. I'm afraid I did little more than wake you. Forgive me, my friend."

"Legolas"

  
The elf cut him off. "Come, we should be on our way."

"Legolas" he reached a hand out and grabbed Legolas' arm. _"Saes, mellonin,_ _hananin, Estel_let me help." (Please my friend, it is me, Estel.)

Legolas was about to shrug away any offer of help, but his friend's words, the tone of his voice drove away such thoughts. "_Ai! Elbereth!_ How can I do this? Estel! I am not myselfand that mere phrase means so much more than it should!" He stopped, glancing away from his friend and upwards into the trees' intertwining limbs. He found a beauty and grace there only another Woodland Elf would appreciate, and when he resumed speaking, Aragorn had to strain to hear him. "I cannot hear the trees. I cannot climb them. My sight seems less than half what it was, and as for my hearingI admit I feel almost deaf, though I think that is the silence that echoes the absence of Iluvatar's song." He kicked at a bit of snow, his light elven shoes wet and useless, offering no protection to the fair being who had needed no such protection before. "I sink into the snow. I do not recognize my own voice, my own laughter, my own mind!" He glanced then at his friend, but looked away almost immediately. "I do not ask how you do such things, for I have seen you endure more than I have in the last few hoursyet I cannot help but think my strengths have gone, leaving only weaknesses behind. I am afraid even to raise my bow for fear that I cannot use it as well as I have always done. I have not half the strength you have my friend, or this burden would be no burden at all."

Legolas stared at the ground unable to look Aragorn in the eye.

Aragorn felt his friend's pain keenly, and, though he knew not how to lessen it, he did know he would move Middle-earth to set this right. The Future King placed a palm on each side of his friend's face, easing the elf's head up and locking eyes with him. "You once made a vow to me. Now I make one to you. I will do all in my power, Legolas, to discover what has been done to you and who has done it. No matter what the cost, I will find a way to reverse this. That is my vow to you. You have my word."

The words brought a smile to Legolas' face. He saw Aragorn's determination, and well he remembered the vow he had taken. It had been soon after they'd met, and he had sworn to Aragorn that he would see the man take the Throne of Gondor one day. He'd sworn to assist in any way he could, to follow Aragorn through Middle-earth if that was what it took. Then he had vowed not to leave Middle-earth for the Undying Lands while his friend yet drew breath. Aragorn had been startled by his words, but once spoken, Legolas had stubbornly refused to recant.

Now, Legolas saw the passion Aragorn had poured into the vow he had just made. It mirrored the passion with which he'd sworn himself to the Mortal King. He knew Aragorn meant it. Still, he gently shook his head raising his own hands to cover Aragorn's and pull them gently from his face until he held them, almost pleadingly, clasped in front of him. "Nay, _mellonin!_ You do not understand or you would not make such a vow. You cannot offer such a thing! No matter the cost? You have a destiny much greater than mine. If you are right about what has caused this, it was done to distract you from your goal. I will not be the cause of you turning your back on your duty."

He expected Aragorn to become angry with him. Instead Aragorn took Legolas' hand and placed it over his heart. "What feel you, Legolas?"

Legolas, confused, answered honestly. "Your heart."

"My heart. The heart of a man. Not Iluvatar. Not the Valar, or even a Maia. I am a man. No more. No less. My life is worth no more than any other man's" he raised his voice when Legolas opened his mouth to object. "except of course to those who will grieve me when I am gone. Nay, it is you who are mistaken. I will not sacrifice anyone—least of all you—to blind ambitions and the vague hope of some great destiny. If I were to do that, I would not be the man so many seem to think I am. A noble man will not stand upon his friend's backs to reach his goals."

Legolas was silent a moment. Then, he smiled. "Well-spoken, Aragorn."

Aragorn returned the smile, and together they broke camp, eating some fruit as they did so.

As he was about to help Aragorn mount Fëagaladhad, Legolas took note of the growing red stain on his friend's back. "Estel, we should see to your wounds."

"Nay. I am well."

"Truly, you lie poorly, Estel."

"And I suppose you lie well?"

"That won't work _mellonin_. You merely seek to distract me."

Aragorn raised his hands in surrender. "Very well."

Legolas loosened his friend's tunic and gaped at how red the bandages had become. "Estel, you bleed too much!"

Aragorn missed the seriousness in the elf's tone. "So I have been told."

"That is not what I mean! I speak not of the frequency of your injuries so much as the severity. These wounds bleed freely! More freely than when first I wrapped them. They grow worse!" Legolas turned pleading eyes on his friend demanding explanation.

Aragorn could not explain, but looked then more closely at his own wounds. "I suppose I have been rather active this morning. I will be more careful while we ride."

Legolas was not convinced, but fashioned new bandages and wrapped his friend's injuries. In moments they were riding again, though Legolas' attention was mostly on his friend. Carefully, he watched for signs of blood and bleeding, and soon the fear that Aragorn was indeed worsening drew him to move more quickly towards Imladris than any thought of his own odd condition would have done.

Hours later, Aragorn nearly fell from Fëagaladhad's back as the loss of blood finally pulled him into unconsciousness. Legolas, startled out of thoughts of his own odd condition, grabbed hold of his arm and eased him from atop the horse. Checking the bandages, the elf determined that the wounds were indeed worsening, It seemed as though the closer he drew to The Last Homely House, the worse Estel became. He cursed himself for his inattention. He should have seen how bad Estel's injuries had become! How could he ride up to Lord Elrond and explain his son had nearly died while he himself was lost in self-pity?

"You will be well, Estel. This I promise." Rewrapping Estel's wounds, Legolas hoisted the Ranger upon Fëagaladhad, and urged his horse to move as quickly as it was possible to move with two feet of snow on the ground.

To Be Continued

**

Eck and Noriel: Thanks! I'm glad I'm not the only one to wonder about that line! 

  
Padfoor4ever: Thanks! As with my previous story, I'll try to update promptly.

  
Shadow Warrior: Thanks! (Blushes) that's great! I'm glad my little story caught your interest!

  
Tithiel Min: WOW! I'm turning ten shades of red! You flatter me! (And I love it! LOL)

Karri: Kudos for figuring it out! Yes, it's Saruman! Evil Wizard that he is, however, he isn't working alone as you can see! 

PrettyLittleDuck: I hesitated to post this chapter because of what you said. I was so afraid of what I might find if I reread chapter one! I reread, and made a few corrections, but I am afraid I must have missed something. I only made minor changes maybe three or four commas and a few word changes, but it didn't seem all that bad to me, grammatically speaking. My beta had proofed everything except the orcs versus Aragorn fight, and she didn't find anything either. I ran my grammar and spelling check, and I know those aren't all together accurate, but it didn't really spot anything either. If you see something, please send an e-mail to me at ecri@comcast.net and tell me what. If anyone else sees something grammatically questionable, please let me know. Thanks for your help.

Kelly L.K.: Stay tuned! Lots of Legolas angst to come. And some Aragorn angstand, well, you get the idea.

Chloe Amethyst: Thanks so much for your review! I'm happy you stumbled onto the story, and I'm ever happier that you like it!


	3. part 3

****

Author's Note: Lot's of angst here. Angst and anguish everywhere! Keep that in mind as you read, and don't jump to conclusions about anything until you've seen the next chapter!

I've perhaps taken some liberties with the power of some characters here, but it was necessary to remain true to my original idea. And please, don't jump to conclusions about the way this chapter ends.

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this.

I do want to say, I wrote this for the angst quotient. Those are the kinds of stories I prefer, and likely, my next fic would be more along the lines of Fight the Fall and Keeping to the Road. AnywayI've kept you from the chapter long enough. Enjoy!

Please read and review. 

Encroaching Darkness by Ecri

Part 3

The snow had started to fall again, not as fiercely as it had two days before, but much more than a gentle flurry. Legolas held tightly to Aragorn who had lost consciousness sometime the preceding day. He had developed a fierce thirst, and Legolas had begun to think he was growing ill. His biggest worry, however, was the bleeding. It had worsened and his clothes and even Legolas' clothes had been stained a deep red from it. 

Legolas was no healer, but every warrior of Mirkwood knew enough about herbs to know how to stem the bleeding of any wound. That Aragorn's wounds would not close and continued to expel his precious life's liquid had caused more consternation for the elf. He'd begun to wonder if he might have been able to do more were he not suffering from his own strange condition. Aragorn had joked about it in his very human attempt to lighten the mood, but Legolas could tell the Ranger had begun to wonder if he would make it as far as Imladris. 

The Ranger had passed into this unnatural sleep and would not be roused. Legolas did the only thing he could think to do. He rode without pause. Whatever was wrong with his friend, Lord Elrond would see it right.

Still, the cold, and the snow, and his own alien–_human_–responses to them were hard for him to bear. His light clothing and shoes did naught to keep out the fierce, biting wind. Ice crystals had begun to form in his hair, and his throat pained him in a way he had never felt before. He felt a deep ache through his muscles and into his very bones, and it made him wonder how mortal men could handle this existence. His appetite, too, had increased, as had his thirst, and he was amazed at how much sustenance he required, though he tarried for none of his own needs.

He paused now staying his horse as Aragorn moaned. "Shhh! Estel, you are well! I am here! I will get you to your _adar_, I promise!"

Aragorn quieted at the words, though his brow was still furrowed as though deep in thought. The Future King of Men fought something, and Legolas knew he could not help. Not knowing what else to do, he began to sing to his friend in elvish, choosing the Lay of Luthien knowing his friend felt a deep connection to the song. The elf winced at the sound of his voice, too human, and not at all comforting to him, but he sang not for himself, and he would not allow his own frailties to stay him in the only course he was able to take.

**

Aragorn heard his friend singing, and on some level took comfort from both the familiarity of the song as well as the idea that his friend was singing it for him. Though he could not respond, he struggled to cling to life for the sake of his friend.

As he drifted deeper into unconsciousness, he felt a presence. It was not Legolas. It was no elf he had ever metindeed it was no one he had met, though he had faced this threat before. He heard then the Black Speech, but it melted into Common so that he could understand it, and he felt briefly relieved that Sauron had not chosen to speak in elvish, for the sound of that voice desecrating such a language of light would have been unbearable.

"You will not last the day, Heir of Isildur! I will have you, as I will have all that you hold dear!" The voice subsided into an evil cackle.

Aragorn, in his mind's eye, stood tall, drawing himself up to his full height. "I have defeated you once, Minion of Morgoth! I will do so again!"

"You bleed! You die! You have not the strength to do as you will! I have won already!" The voice paused, and suddenly the great eye, lidless and wreathed in flame, appeared flaring intensely with the wrath of the Enemy. "I will take your life, as I have taken your friend's _feä_!" He spoke the elvish word with relish, perhaps sensing that just speaking elvish at all, let alone that word connected with Legolas' fate would rattle the man. "Then once he is my slave, I will take the elves of Rivendell even if I must take them one by one as they leave Elrond's protection!" The laugh came again, harder, crueler, and loud enough to make Aragorn wince. Your friends and family will be my personal slaves, and I will not release them, even if Iluvatar's Song should end!"

Aragorn shuddered and turned away when the evil voice spoke his father's name. Somehow, just hearing the Enemy speak of Lord Elrond directly made him ill. To hear him mention Legolas' feä–his soul–doubled the Ranger's pain. His blood seemed frozen somehow, and his mind filled with fearful images. Images of Elrond, beaten and tortured, of Elladan and Elrohir, of Arwen enthralled by the Evil One, of Legolas in chains of an evil metal that pained him wherever they touched his skin. He, too, had been beaten and broken, and looked more mannish then elvish, unable to sing, to dance among the treetops, or to take joy in all the ways elves did. Aragorn knew the Enemy had created these images, but even that knowledge did not assuage the horrors and the guilt he felt. They suffered for him. They suffered _because_ of him! He struggled then, screaming at the Enemy to stop.

**

Legolas felt Aragorn's struggles grow and all his singing and soothing could do naught to help. As his friend's anguish grew, the thrashing increased until Legolas was forced to stop and lower Aragorn from Fëagaladhad's back. Trying to ignore it when they both sunk deep into the snow, Legolas called to his friend. Aragorn burned with fever, and, as he spoke, screaming _Daro! Daro!,_ over and over again, Legolas realized he was again locked in battle with the Enemy. Frustration filled him. Why would the Enemy not give up, at least for a time? (Stop! Stop!)

Legolas gripped both of Aragorn's hands in his own. "Aragorn!" he spoke loudly, again using his friend's true name thinking it could give him strength against the enemy to remember his own heritage as a Numenorean. _"Aragorn! Im sinome ni le! Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad!"_ He repeated the words over and over gaining strength and volume as a desperation he had never felt took hold of his fear and magnified it. The desperate grief over what Aragorn suffered was so fierce he knew he was human, for had he truly been an elf, it would have killed him. (Aragorn! I am here for you! Listen to my voice. Come back to the light!)

**

Elladan scanned the area ahead of them for signs of his brother and his missing friend. Elrohir did the same, and, as Elladan watched, his twin turned to look at him. "Perhaps we missed them?"

Elladan shook his head. "I do not think we have, though I do not know how far Legolas could have come. Or, for that matter, if Aragorn would have been this far from the road to Mirkwood."

"We cannot stop!" Elrohir felt fear in his heart at the thought of abandoning the search. It would be like declaring Estel and Legolas dead, and he could not bear that.

"I said not so, Elrohir. We must look on, but our provisions grow low." Elladan was about to elaborate when they heard a voice, speaking in elvish. _"Aragorn! Im sinome ni le! Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad!"_

The twins looked at each other, eyes wide. Without further words, they took off urging their horses forward at great speed. 

  
They had not gone far, when they found those they sought. Legolas sat huddled over Aragorn. Aragorn seemed unconscious, and both twins were horrified at the amount of blood that covered the two friends, and, upon closer inspection, stained Fëagaladhad's white coat. The twins vaulted from their steeds, and were at Legolas' side in an instant. 

  
"Legolas! What has happened?" Elladan called.

Legolas did not seem to hear. His eyes clenched shut, he held fiercely to Aragorn's hands, and he continued to speak as though it was a chant._ "Aragorn! Im sinome ni le! Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad!"_

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged blank looks, wondering what to make of it all. Without the need for speech of any language, the brothers moved so that they stood one on either side of the pair, each clasping Aragorn's and Legolas' arms. In moments, they saw what their friend and brother faced.

Elladan called out loudly, in a voice that sounded so much like Elrond's that Aragorn called out pleadingly for his Elven father.

"Release them Foul Defiler of All Iluvatar's creation! It is not yet time for such a confrontation and well you know it!" Elladan's command would not have affected Sauron at all, had not Aragorn and Legolas already fought so bravely and so long. When Elrohir joined in on Legolas' chant, the Enemy roared an unholy roar and, with a final shove towards the group, he released Aragorn and fled.

Elladan recovered first, releasing his grip on Elrohir's hand and bending low over Aragorn. _"Doro! Estel A si i-Dhúath ú-orthor_" (Stop! The Shadow does not hold sway yet Estel. Literally. 'Till now the Shadow not masters, Estel.' Author's note: Courtesy of the Film, The Fellowship of the Ring!)

Aragorn's eyes flickered open and he smiled at his brother before again losing his grip on consciousness. Elladan turned then to Legolas, whom Elrohir held by both shoulders trying to elicit some response. Legolas, however, seemed beyond reaching. 

"Legolas! My friend, tell us what has happened!" Elladan all but pleaded.

Legolas swayed slightly, but Elrohir's grip held him upright. He took in a deep sudden breath, and seemed to come back to himself. "Elladan? Elrohir?" He spoke in a weak whisper. "Estel! Estel!" He cried out. "We must save Estel!"

"It is all right! Legolas, we have fought off the Enemy. Estel is unconscious but safe from darkness. Tell us what happened." Elladan, like his father, commanded well, and Legolas obeyed with little thought after hearing the words and tone his friend used.

"I know not what malady afflicts him, _mellonin_, but he bleeds and I have found no way to stop it! I have tried! Oh! I have tried, but I fear he has lost so much blood a near-sighted orc could have tracked us by the trail of red stains upon the snow!" The anguish in Legolas' eyes permeated his voice as well.

"Shh! Legolas! It is well! We can take him to _Adar_. Tell us if you are injured."

"Not in body, _mellonin_. I will live." A strange calm overtook him now that there were others to help Estel. "Quickly. We must not waste time discussing me when Estel's life spills in great puddles onto the snow."

The three elves rose then, and though Elladan offered to take Estel, Legolas would not hear of it. He mounted and held a much calmer Aragorn to him as he had before. Together they raced to Rivendell.

**

Lord Elrond considered his words carefully. He had been concerned when King Thranduil himself had arrived a few days ago with Tarmathlion and Oropherín in tow. He had wondered briefly how Aglarelen, closest of the brothers to Legolas, had been persuaded to remain in Mirkwood, but knew Thranduil had likely promised he would be sent for when the prince returned. Thranduil's concern was in Legolas' long absence. He should have returned long before now with news of his search even had he not found Estel.

His own sons had been gone far too long as well. Elladan had sent word that Aragorn had not met them in Mirkwood, and that they had requested help from Thranduil to find him. Elrond knew the bond Estel and Legolas shared, and he had not been surprised when he'd learned that Mirkwood's youngest prince had ridden off to find the Ranger. 

He looked across the room at King Thranduil once more. "I am sorry, but once again, I have had no messages."

Thranduil glared openly at the Lord of Imladris, but Elrond knew it was more out of concern for his youngest son than out of any ill feelings the King might still hold for him. Relations between the two realms had often been strained. Elrond knew the Last Alliance of Elves and Men had changed Thranduil. In his youth, the King, when he had been Crown Prince of Mirkwood, had been less distrustful of mortals. To be sure, he had never shared Legolas' easygoing nature, but he had been less stern and quicker to smile. He had seen too much too soon, and Elrond knew the horrors he had seen in Mordor haunted him still.

  
Likely that was his chief concern for Legolas. The young prince had seen much, losing his mother at too young an age, and the countless trials he had faced. Elrond knew Thranduil wished to protect the elfling, though he was elfling no longer. He wondered, not for the first time if the friendship Estel and Legolas had forged weighed heavy on the King's mind. He wondered if Legolas had told his father that he had pledged his life to Estelno, to Aragorn, son of Arathorn.

"What do you propose we do, Elrond? Stare at each other while our sons face the Valar know what?" Thranduil's words were harsh, but his tone, like his eyes, held only fear for his son.

Elrond shook his head. "No, _mellonin_. I propose we strike out tomorrow, you and I, and search for them. I suggest we keep the party small. I will take Glorfindel."

Thranduil nodded. He hadn't expected such a course from Elrond, and it suited him. "Tomorrow, then."

A hasty knock came to the door to Elrond's library as Thranduil rose to leave. Elrond rose with him, calling to he who waited. "Come!"

A breathless page entered. "Lord Elrond," he turned to Thranduil. "King Thranduil, forgive my intrusion." He turned then back to his lord. "The border guards have sent word, your sons are coming. All of them, and they bring Prince Legolas." He hesitated but Elrond knew his message was not yet delivered.

"Go on."

"They have need of your skills, my Lord."

Elrond had feared this would be so. He had already made what preparations he could, and did not have to think about what orders he should now issue. "Prepare Estel's rooms. We will use one room to house all who are injured. Move inside as many beds as necessary once they arrive. Send for the other healers and for Glorfindel. I will see to the herbs and treatments myself."

"Yes, Lord Elrond." The messenger hastened away to do as he was bid.

  
Elrond turned to Thranduil and saw plainly the unrestrained fear on the King's brow. "We do not know which of them is injured. Your son may be fine."

  
Thranduil didn't say a word, but took his leave to find Oropherín and Tarmathlion.

Elrond wasted no time in retrieving the things he would need, and moved swiftly to Estel's rooms to await the injured.

**

Elladan had been relieved to reach the borders of his father's land, and had ordered one of the border guards to race ahead to The Last Homely House to inform Elrond that he should expect some injuries. He and Elrohir would not leave Estel and Legolas. He knew Estel bled freely, but he could not think what would cause such a thing. Legolas had insisted that he had used all manner of herbs and remedies only to fail and, in some cases, to hasten the flow of blood.

Legolas himself was more of a perplexity. The elf shivered from cold or some other source that Elladan could not detect. He looked haggard and drawn as though desperately in need of sleep, and his voice had taken on a deeper, rougher, less elven tone. Legolas would not speak of what ailed him. Indeed, his only concern was for Estel, and, when the Ranger moaned or shifted, Legolas immediately whispered elvish words in his ear until he calmed.

Elladan glanced to Elrohir, but it was plain his twin could not guess what had happened. Finally, they reached the Courtyard of the Last Homely House. Elladan and Elrohir dismounted quickly, rushing then to Legolas to help the prince ease Aragorn from the horse. Legolas himself nearly stumbled as he dismounted, but he insisted on carrying Estel on his own and would not be persuaded otherwise. 

Elladan watched in amazement as the battered, hurting elf, shook off all assistance, and drawing strength and power from where Elladan could not say, raced through the halls towards Estel's rooms where they'd been told Elrond waited.

Legolas ignored Elrond and seemed not to register the presence of Thranduil, Oropherín, and Tarmathlion. He moved to Estel's bed, and with more gentleness than a mother with a newborn babe, laid his friend upon it, kneeling then at the bedside, still clutching his friend's hand as he made room for Elrond to work.

Elrond took in all of this and vowed to speak to Legolas later. It seemed the Prince must have disregarded his own welfare to care for Estel, and, while Elrond was grateful, he would not have anyone treat his own well being as though it was not important.

  
The Lord of Imladris stood at Estel's bedside, examining every inch, every injury. Elladan whispered to him what little he'd learned from Legolas about the incessant bleeding. Elrond nodded and turned his attention to Legolas.

"Legolas, tell me what you know. Why does he bleed so?"

  
Legolas spoke slowly as though in stupor. "I know not, Lord Elrond. His injuries did not seem so serious when first I treated them. The next day, he developed an unquenchable thirst. I thought he might be feverish, but his wounds later began to bleed freely." Anguish displaced stupor, as the Prince finally turned to look at Elrond's face. Elrond took a step back, gasping in shock at the Prince's appearance. His face was pale and gaunt, his nose red and raw. His lips tinged blue. But his voice spoke critically of his own attempts to help his friend. "I thought perhaps I had missed something, so I stopped to check him, but there was naught I could do! No herb, no paste, no leaf, no bark! _Ai! Elbereth!_, he faded before me jesting to keep the worry from my mind!"

  
Elrond nodded concern for the Prince's state of mind growing. He dared not look at Thranduil though he heard the King's other sons speaking quickly to calm their father.

  
"You say he developed a great thirst?"

  
Legolas only nodded, slipping back into the stupor.

"Do you have his water skin?" Elrond knew his son knew much about nature and herbs, but perhaps he had somehow imbibed tainted water.

Legolas nodded again, reaching for the water skins at his side. He'd forgone drinking any at all, allowing Estel to drink all they had. "There is not much left." He admitted.

Elrond took the skins and opened them. There was but a drop in each. The first looked fine, but the secondElrond's brow furrowed at the sight of an odd white powdery residue that rimmed the mouthpiece. Cautiously, he tipped his finger in it, and brought it first to his nose, inhaling deeply. A slight odor reached him of a particular berry that grew somewhere well to the south. He brought the powder then to his tongue and tasted. His eyes widened as he realized what it was. 

Muttering to himself, he moved to his store of herbs. He'd brought some of all that he had, not knowing what he would need. Grinding several leaves of several different plants together, he added them to clear, clean water. Returning to his son's side, he spoke to Elladan. "I need him to sit and drink this."

  
But Legolas had heard and took it upon himself to raise his friend and support him in a sitting position. Elrond placed the water at his son's lips, but Aragorn was caught in a nightmare and turned his head violently away. No matter what Elrond did, Aragorn would not take the water.

Legolas took the hand Estel had feebly raised against his father's ministrations, and with more stamina than he looked to have, he eased Estel forward, and slipped behind him on the bed, so that he once again cradled Estel to his chest and shoulder as he had on horseback. Taking the solution from Elrond he held it to Estel's lips. 

__

"Im sinome ni le! Soga!" He spoke softly in Estel's ear, and the Ranger, perhaps eased by the familiarity of it since Legolas had often said such as they moved towards Imladris, or perhaps comforted by the fact that Legolas was with him and not lost to shadow, drank deeply, finishing the draught without pause. (I am here for you! Drink!)

  
Elrond and the others stared at the spectacle as Legolas discarded the empty cup, and settled Aragorn back against his chest. He began to sing, softly, and rather unelvenly, though those present assumed the change in his voice came from his own dehydration and fatigue.

  
Throughout the day, Legolas administered whatever medications Elrond would have Aragorn consume. He continued to sing, or merely to rock his friend, not sleeping, not eating, and taking no thought of his own welfare.

Elrond, and his sons, as well as Thranduil and his sons, tried to convince the prince to leave Estel's side and care for himself. Only Thranduil managed to elicit any response at all, causing Legolas to turn towards his father and his King, and stare into his eyes for a moment, before he once again returned his attention to Estel.

  
Thranduil stumbled backwards then and Elrond came up behind him catching his hand. "What? What is it?" the Lord of Imladris asked.

Thranduil looked stricken. "He is changed, though I know not how. He is not as he should be. He is not my son."

Elrond and Thranduil dropped their voices to discuss what this could mean, neither noticing the single tear that slid from beneath Legolas' closed lashes as he heard his father's words.

To Be Continued

Karri: I don't mean to step on any toes here. This will take some time to finish, and different authors will handle the same theme differently. If this all offends in some way, please let me know.

Xsilicax: Thanks!

Chloe Amethyst: Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying the angst. There's nothing I like more than an eager reader!

Kelly L.K: I hope you liked this chapter, then! 

Tithen Min: Thanks! Yeah, this will be more involved than a quick trip to see Lord Elrond, much as I love the guy! More soon, I promise!

Grumpy: Thanks! I hope this chapter works for you.

  
Felian: I enjoyed reading your insights. You have given this sort of thing a lot of thought. I made Legolas 'heavier' because, if he is mortal, he would sink through the snow like mortal men do. He isn't necessarily heavier. I've always assumed that elves being able to walk above the snow was a more mysterious thing than merely weight related. More of a distribution of weight thing or maybe something even more magical. Sinking in the snow was just a mortal thing he'd have to deal with if he did indeed become human. I also don't know that I'd say the elves aren't as resilient as the mortals, just that the resilience of each race is unique to that race. Dealing with the ever changing world, and the deaths of those they come to know, mortal or immortal, requires a special resilience. Surely taking away some of that resilience, while making him vulnerable to mortal frailties would have an effect on an elf. Just like if Aragorn suddenly found himself elvish or dwarvish he'd have a hard time dealing with such a sudden alteration in the very essence of his being and his identity. Thanks for the comments, and please keep them coming!

  
White Wolf: I was rather proud of the vow myself! Thanks for the compliments!

Andmetwen: Yeahany excuse for more angst! 

Padfoot4ever: I'll try to keep the updates coming.


	4. part 4

****

Author's Note: More angst and anguish!

I've perhaps taken some liberties with the power of some characters here, but it was necessary to remain true to my original idea. And please, don't jump to conclusions about the way this chapter ends.

Elvish is in _italics_ and comes from many sources. They are _The Silmarillion_ by J.R.R. Tolkien, the website councilofelrond.com and _The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth_ by Ruth S. Noel. I've never really tried to speak elvish, so if there are any inaccuracies here, they are my own mistakes. (Feel free to correct me, but please give me sources so I can learn as much as I can about Elvish.)

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this.

See responses to reviews at end of chapter.

Please read and review. 

Encroaching Darkness by Ecri

Part 4

**

No elf dared leave the sick room. Food and refreshment was sent up to them, but most was sent back untouched.

Legolas slept not at all, though others drifted in and out of Elven sleep. Then, as night faded to dawn of the following day, Estel stirred. Legolas, thinking he would fall from the bed, tightened his grip, and was startled when Aragorn's voice and light laughter greeted his ears. 

"Easy, Legolas, it is well."

Legolas moved then, shifting so he could see his friend more clearly. The two smiled at each other, but did not speak. Elrond, hearing the words, stirred from the chair he'd placed by his son's bed and took Estel's hand. "Estel, my son! How do you feel?"

"I am well, _Adar_. I feel weak, but better."

  
Elrond smiled, as did Elladan and Elrohir. Even Thranduil and his sons seemed greatly relieved, though their fear for Legolas was sharper and dearer in light of the man's recovery.

Aragorn returned the grip his father held on his hand. "I am well, _Adar."_ He turned then to look into Legolas' grinning face, frowning at the lack of improvement, indeed at the worsening, since last he had laid eyes on his friend. "Legolas, you look terrible."

Thranduil cleared his throat. "Perhaps, Ranger, you can persuade my son to allow Lord Elrond to look after his hurts."

Aragorn turned startled eyes on the King, then back to Legolas. "You did not tell them?"  


The elf shrugged. "I had more pressing concerns. My condition is not immediately life-threatening."

  
"Legolas!" Aragorn turned to his father. "Do not listen to him, _Adar_! He is unwell!"

"I gathered that much from his appearance alone my son, but when he refuses treatment there is naught I can do."

"Legolas! Tell them!" Aragorn commanded.

  
Legolas sighed then, but did as he was told, though the words did not come easily. "I am not myself. I hear not Iluvatar's song. I am chilled to the bone, and my throat has never felt so raw. I ache in more places than ever before in my life." He raised his downcast eyes and looked at Lord Elrond, though he would not look at his father. "I find my sight and hearing are not what they were, and my lightAi! Elbereth!my light has gone. I believe I have somehow become human."

Thranduil sputtered. "How is that possible?"

Elrond waved a calming hand at the King. "I will need to speak to them both to determine that very thing!" The look on Elrond's face informed the King that he would need to be silent if he wished to remain.

The Lord of Imladris turned to Legolas. "What makes you believe this? What happened out there Legolas?"

Legolas looked into Elrond's eyes in that disconcerting direct way he'd always had. It had always amazed Elrond that he sometimes found Legolas' stare as disconcerting as Galadriel's. His stare always contained his emotions, no matter the situation, and now was no different. His own confusion and fear warred with a resigned acceptance of what had befallen him and a desire to shield his friends and family from as much of his suffering as was possible.

Elrond took the Prince's hand. "It is all right, Legolas. I will do all I can to help. Tell me everything."

Legolas felt more solace at those words than he would have thought possible. 

Aragorn shifted then, moving away from the elf. "Legolas, before we deal with that, you should let _Adar_ examine you. If your throat is raw, and your nose red, and the sinking in the snow" He looked up at his father.

Elrond nodded. "Yes, come, Prince, and let me look at you."

Reluctantly, Legolas released Aragorn, and stepped gingerly from behind his friend. He stumbled then, the pain in his feet robbing him of balance. Elrond caught him, and easily swung the elf, who'd lost no small amount of weight in his travels, into his arms. Easing him onto the bed he'd had set up when he had not known how many of the four would be in need of help, he began to examine Legolas.

  
He liked not what he found. The Wood Elf's throat was indeed red and raw. It had to be painful to talk and to swallow. His head was hot to the touch, and he was obviously running a fever. It was, however, the elf's feet that concerned him most. Legolas was frostbitten. He straightened, glaring at the elf as he did at Estel whenever Estel hid some hurt from him.

"Legolas, you have lain in that bed nursing my son for nearly 24 hours, yet you not once told me of your ailments, or even hinted that you might not be well. Your feet! You must be in great pain!"

Legolas looked down at his hands, which he held in his lap. "I thought not of it. My heart was with Aragorn."

  
Elrond frowned, but, restraining the questions and fears that raged in his mind, Elrond treated the miserable elf. Ointment and warm wrappings on his feet, and a warming tea and broth and soon Legolas felt nearly normal.

Elrond glanced around the room. There were far too many people in it. He looked to the twins and to Thranduil's older sons. They would have to leave. As though reading his mind, Thranduil bade his sons to return to their own rooms to rest. They were prepared to argue, but Legolas called to them.

"Tarm, Oro, I am well." He held out a hand to each of them, and they crossed to his bedside, taking his hands and overwhelming him as they both stooped to hug him. The three whispered to each other in hushed words and loving tones, but in the end, they parted. Tarm and Oro left with a last glance to their Father, trusting that he would see to their Little Greenleaf's health.

Once they had gone, Elrond turned to his own twins. He did naught but raise an eyebrow, a half smile quirking his lips. Elladan nodded, nudging his brother, but they first took their leave of Estel in much the same way Legolas' brothers had of him.

Elrond and Thranduil turned then to look at their youngest sons.

Aragorn and Legolas glanced at each other. "How much?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas considered. "From after the attack, I suppose."

Aragorn nodded. "That would seem to be where it all began to unravel."

  
Legolas laughed wincing at the human sound of it. "It unraveled well before that, _mellonin_, but that is where we both were stricken!"

Elrond and Thranduil glared at them during their debate.

Legolas sighed and began his tale. "I rescued Aragorn from orcs who held him captive, and we rode far and fast to be sure we weren't pursued." Legolas continued with his story until Aragorn decided to take over the narrative. 

"I awoke the next morning, well, nearer afternoon to find Legolas unconsciouswith his eyes closed," he added carefully.

He continued and detail for detail the two shared their story with their worried fathers. Legolas explained about Sauron. Aragorn explained his dreams that he knew were more than dreams. He then recalled Legolas' chant and how it had kept him close until Elladan and Elrohir had joined them to break the Enemy's hold. Thranduil and Elrond both felt horror at the suggestion that such corruption had touched their sons on so intimate a level.

  
Elrond spoke then asking questions of Legolas as Thranduil sat by his son's side. "You say you remember naught of the evening before you awoke like this?"

Legolas nodded. "I remember only a blinding light" he frowned. "And"

"And what, Legolas? Tell us." Elrond spoke softly, persuasively.

"I remember the Black Speech."

Thranduil cursed causing all in the room to turn surprised eyes on him. "The taint of Mordor grows!" He spat the words as though they tasted foul on his tongue.

Elrond considered the words of both father and son. His heart was heavy for he did not think there was much he could do. "I must consult my books." He said at last. He rose then and looked his patients over once more then he went to his library. He did not emerge for three days.

**

Elladan assumed responsibility for his brother's and Legolas' treatments, and both healed well, though Estel was greatly irritated that the blood loss had left him weak and unable even to sit up for long. Legolas laughed heartily at his friend's discomfiture, much to Elladan's delight, and Estel's irritation.

"Truly, my friend, you bellow like a bear, yet you have less strength than a newly hatched sparrow!" The Prince laughed.

Legolas' human-sounding laughter grated on Thranduil's ears, and though he would hide this from his son, Legolas could tell. He only laughed or sang now if Thranduil was out of the room. When he was present, Legolas made a great effort to modulate his voice so he sounded more elven. If he was present at mealtimes, he ate as he would have before the odd change, denying the mannish hunger that growled deep in his belly.

Now, he laughed with elven abandon as his father had left to speak to his brothers.

  
Aragorn mock-glared at his friend, secretly pleased to hear the sound of laughter from the elf even if it was at his own expense.

Elladan changed the dressings on Legolas' feet as the two friends laughed. Elrohir sat in a chair nearby to assist Elladan should he need anything. The twins shared a smile now at the sound of the two invalids recovering their spirits.

Elladan sobered as he removed the bandages from Legolas' right foot. The left had healed nicely, but the frostbite on the right seemed less improved. Covering his concern, Elladan wrapped fresh bandages upon the afflicted appendage after spreading a thick athelas paste over the injury.

He looked over then at Estel, and saw his brother looking at him with concern in his eyes. Elladan glanced at Legolas, but the elf was deep in conversation with Elrohir, and had not noticed either Elladan's or Estel's concerns. Elladan rose then and made as though he would check Estel's bandages again. He settled at his brother's bedside and began fussing with his bandages. 

"You cannot hide your fears, brother." Aragorn spoke softly, knowing Legolas' hearing was not what it was and that Elldan's elven hearing could easily hear him.

"I suppose I cannot." He sighed. "His right foot is not healing as well as it could be. I would go to Adar"

"Then go!"

"He has not responded to anyone for days. I do not know if he plans ever to come out of his library."

  
"You know he would if he thought Legolas needed him. Go! And if he wishes not to be disturbed tell him I sent you out of fear for my friend." 

Elladan placed a gentle hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Rest easy, Estel. I will go to him now. Just keep Legolas' mind off of his problems."

  
"What do you think I've been doing the last three days?"

Elladan smiled at his brother before leaving to speak to his father. Aragorn was right. Elrond would drop whatever he was doing if he thought either of his patients needed his help. Elladan approached his father's library, surprised to find the door ajar. He paused, and listened to see if someone already was speaking to his father.  
  
He heard Thranduil's voice speaking gruffly. "Lord Elrond, I insist, if you cannot help him I must return him to Mirkwood!"

"Thranduil, please, be reasonable! His best chance is to go to Lothlorien. Celeborn and Galadriel will surely"

  
"I will not bring him there! You Noldor elves are hard to take, do you know that? Yet, you, for all your half-elven stupidity should at least know that Galadriel and I have not spoken for centuries. Surely the family feuds are mentioned from time to time when you visit the mother of your wife!"

"Is such a feud worth your son's life?"

"We have healers in Mirkwood!" Thranduil's insistence faltered a bit at the realization that what healers he did have in Mirkwood didn't possess half the knowledge of Elrond and Celeborn.

"My friend, we have never faced such an affliction. Galadriel and Celeborn are much older than either of us. I am sure that, of all the elves on Middle-earth, they would be most likely to find a cure for him!"

Elladan had heard more than enough, and since they discussed Legolas, perhaps hearing what he had to say would sway Thranduil to see the logic in his father's words. He leaned closer to the door, knocking, as he slid the door gently open and called to his father. "_Adar_" he paused as though surprised to find Thranduil inside. "Forgive me, _Adar,_ King Thranduil" he nodded at the King, then turned to his father. "It is Legolas. I have done what I can for him, but his right foot does not heal as it should. I thought you could come and look at it."

  
Before Elladan had completed his request, Elrond gathered up a few books and a sack of herbs. "Come, Thranduil, and tell Legolas you would take him home when his only hope lies in Lothlorien!" He stormed from the library, Elladan at his heels.

Thranduil followed.

**

On the way to Estel's room, Elladan had explained that he hadn't let Legolas see his concerns, but he was sure Legolas would not think it odd if Elrond looked over both his patients considering his long absence. 

  
Elrond entered the room, handing his books and herbs to Elladan. He forced a smile on his face and addressed both his own son and Legolas. "I trust Elladan has taken good care of you while I have been unable!"

Estel and Legolas laughed, before Legolas realized his father was behind Lord Elrond and hastily cut off his own laughter for fear the sound would upset the King.

Estel sighed. "Yes, _Adar,_ though Elladan is about half the healer you are. In a few thousand years, he may yet be two-thirds as good as you!"

Elladan playfully cuffed Estel on the side of the head as Elrond made a show of checking Estel's injuries. A cursory examination later, he was beside Legolas, checking first for fever, then inspecting the redness of the elf's throat. "Your fever has broken. Your throat looks much better! How do you feel?"

Legolas smiled. "I am well, Lord Elrond. I can swallow!"

  
Elrond returned the smile. "It was a minor symptom." He moved then to Legolas' feet, expertly hiding an undue concern. "And your feet? How do they feel?"

  
Elrond unwrapped the left first. It was all but healed. Another day or two, and he would be well. As he unwrapped the right, he looked expectantly at Legolas who had yet to answer his question. 

Legolas knew something was wrong with his right foot, but he had hoped he'd misinterpreted the signs. He had never before had a human reaction to anything. He thought it reasonable to assume his elven instincts might misinterpret the pain. Realizing this was obviously not the case even as he realized that Elladan must have gone to his father because of this, he dropped his gaze. "It pains me, Lord Elrond. My right footthere is something wrong."

Elrond's heart went out to the prince. He unwrapped the bandage and examined the toes. They had not healed as they should have, and indeed looked bad. Not allowing this to show, Elrond smiled again at Legolas. "It is not as bad as all that." He tried to sound reassuring. "Elrohir, prepare some athelas." Elrohir did as told and Elrond gingerly placed a hand on the injured toes. 

Legolas inhaled sharply at the touch causing both Estel and Thranduil to jump slightly.

  
Elrond closed his eyes then and focused on the injured toes. Slowly he poured some of himself into the prince, willing his toes–and his spirit–to heal. 

After several moments, Elrond opened his eyes. Legolas stared at him, doubt and shame for some reason in his eyes. Elrond furrowed his brow questioningly.

Legolas shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, but finally looked the Lord in the eye. _"Hannonle_, but I did not deserve that."

Elrond was confused and allowed the confusion to show. "What mean you, Legolas? You are not deserving of proper healing?"

"I cannot ask you to do more than you have done. You have long been away, and by your return at Elladan's request, I can see you have no idea what to do for this malady I bear. I know you tried to heal it as you tried to heal my foot. I felt it, Lord Elrond, and I do not deserve to drain you of your healing powers when obviously there is naught to heal. I am human now, and I must adapt to that."

  
Elrond's eyes searched Legolas'. He believed these words he spoke, Elrond could tell. He believed there was no cure and would not have Elrond attempt the impossible. Elrond stood, moving closer to Legolas and cupped Legolas' cheek in his open palm as his other hand sought the Prince's hand. "Legolas, I have not yet given up hope of curing this, though you are right in that I have found nothing in my books that seems to address this peculiar condition. I do, however, have a suggestion for treatment."

"Elrond!" Thranduil's voice contained all his elven fury that Elrond intended to tell Legolas of this.

"Thranduil, he is well past the age where you may choose his course for him. I would have him know of any hope I can offer!" He turned again to Legolas and explained to him that he should go to Lothlorien.

Legolas' eyes danced at the thought. "I have never seen the Golden Wood," he admitted and the desire to see them shone strong in his face. In a moment, however, the desire slipped away to be replaced by doubt and unworthiness. "But to see it now, with human eyes_Ai!"_

The anguish in his voice gave pause to all present save Aragorn. Clearing his throat, the Ranger spoke, humor touching his words. "I have seen the Golden Wood with human eyes and I do not believe their beauty was diminished. Truly, given what I have heard the past few days, I am amazed that you all have been able to tolerate my presence for so long and that you have managed to keep my plight from me all my life!" He looked across the space that separated him from his friend, and, without asking anyone's leave, tossed aside his own blankets and rose.

Standing under his own power again for the first time in over a week should have made him dizzy, but if it did, he hid it well. He crossed the space to Legolas bedside and took the elf's hand away from his father. Dropping to one knee, his eyes locked on Legolas'. "You once pledged your life to me, vowing to see me take the Throne of Gondor. I say now in front of witnesses that such a destiny would mean naught to me without you by my side to offer advice and counsel. I vow to you, Legolas, as I did when first we discovered this affliction, that I will see you restored. While there is life in me and breath in my lungs, no matter the cost, I will see you dance among the trees again. _Sen gweston, Legolas_." (This I swear, Legolas.)

Legolas eyes moved rapidly across his friend's face searching for something to offer solace and comfort. He must have found it for a small smile graced his fair features, and those who looked upon him now would have been hard pressed to say he had lost his elven grace if they'd been asked at that moment. _"Cuilnin navi caimlîn, Estel Elrondiongwadornin."_ (My life is in your hands, Estel, son of Elrondmy brother.)

Aragorn smiled, pleased to have his elvish name given preference over his given name. This was an elven matter and would be best dealt with that way.

Elrond smiled as well, at the response having rarely heard the elvish form of his youngest son's full name. Legolas, it seemed, had a knack for knowing just what to call his son.

Legolas turned then to face Elrond and Thranduil. "I will go to the Golden Wood."

To Be Continued

Karri: Thanks!

Jade: Was this fast enough?

  
Andmetwen: Yeah, Legolas can be pretty single-minded! Thanks for the cookie!

Chloe Amethyst: As you can see from this chapter, Elrond needs help to fix this one! Thanks for the review!

  
Tithen Min: Masterpiece? I don't know about that, but I am flattered. Tolkien's work is the only real Masterpiece. Me? I'm just obsessed, thank you very much!

Felian: I enjoy reading your thoughts on the subject, and I am glad you like the story! I agree that a lot of fanfiction does make elves out to be incredibly superior. I don't really like that myself. I don't think of them as better, just different. Honestly, it must be difficult to be an elf and watch the world you love change so drastically. I do see your point but I couldn't get around the weight thing. If they weigh less than a bird'cause even a bird can sink into the snow a bitthen how could they function? I like your solution about their bones, though. Even if it didn't work out to be feasible, it sounds good! LOL!

  
White Wolf: Astute observation! Yes, Legolas' troubles are just beginning!


	5. part 5

****

Author's Note: LOT'S More angst and anguish!

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this.

Please read and review. (See responses to reviews at end of chapter.)

  
The next chapter will have less angst and more action, but for this oneoodles of angst!

Encroaching Darkness by Ecri

Part 5

**

Plans were made for travel to the Golden Wood, but Estel and Legolas had first to recover fully from their experiences. Legolas frostbitten foot healed completely after several weeks of Elrond's intense treatments. Aragorn regained his strength and was soon able to roam at will around the house and grounds where he had been reared. 

  
The weather was less cooperative. Harsh weather kept them trapped in Rivendell for many weeks. Thranduil finally had to set out for Mirkwood, having left his realm in his oldest son's hands far longer than he had agreed. The night before he left, he sought his son. Legolas stared out at the trees in Elrond's garden from the large balcony in the room he had been given. Like Aragorn's, his room had been fitted with shutters to keep out the cold, and, at this time of year, he had a fire blazing in the fireplace, though too often he ignored the devices and stood on the balcony despite the chill it gave him.

Thranduil approached his son, and cleared his throat. He had learned to find ways to announce himself as once too often he had startled his son forgetting he could not hear his father's approach.

Legolas turned to his father, but remained on the balcony. "_Adar,_ you are leaving, then?"

"Yes, my son. I cannot spend the winter here and then travel to Lorien. Our people need me."

  
Legolas nodded, bearing the words as he did the actions, though some small part of him wished his father would abandon his duty and stay with him. He shook that off not allowing the thought to take hold of him. His father was a King. He himself was a prince. They could not abandon their people. In truth, Legolas was gravely concerned that Sauron would make a more direct point of attacking Mirkwood now that he knew an elf of Mirkwood stood by Aragorn. He hoped Sauron knew not his rank, though he himself felt unsure if Sauron's knowledge of such a thing would make things worse for his realm. He suspected it would, for it would lend an air of authority to his relationship with the Future King. It might seem as though Legolas had pledged Mirkwood to Aragorn, when he had but pledged himself.

"Safe trip, then _Ada. Avo 'osto." _(Don't worry.)

  
Thranduil smiled, though sorrow painted the sound. "I would worry for you, my Little Greenleaf, were we both safely in Valinor."

Legolas nodded. "_Ada_" He cut himslef off, dropping his gaze to the ground. 

"_Pedo._ What troubles you?" (Speak.)

Legolas took a breath and started again, though he could not bring himself to look at his father. "_Ada,_ before I agreed to allow Lord Elrond to treat my hurts_" Ai! This is hard, _he thought,_ I want no pity!_ "I heard you tell him I was not your son"

  
Thranduil drew in a sharp breath, but Legolas went on.

"I am sorry, _Ada_, that I have fallen. If I can find no cure, I will not burden you or Mirkwood with my presence. II want no pity, and I would not hurt you if I could help it."

  
Thranduil stepped closer to his son and placed a finger under the younger elf's chin, lifting it up so Legolas would look at him. "My sonmy precious Greenleafyou are the treasure of my life. You will have no pity, but what you will have is my apology. I meant not those words I uttered, or at least, not in the way you took them. I spoke hastily and not well. I meant only for Elrond to know there was something dire wrong with you. I was right, there was, but I expressed myself poorly, and, indeed, if you have dwelt on those words all these long weeks, then I regret them more than any words I might have said in all the days of my life. Forgive me, Legolas."

Legolas searched his father's face much as he had Aragorn's when the Ranger had pledged to see him cured. Whatever he sought, he found in his father's loving eyes. _"Le melethn, Ada." _(I love you, dad/daddy.)

__

"Le melethn, Legolas."

**

The winter passed slowly for Legolas who wished nothing more than to be on his way to Lothlorien and so well on his way to reclaiming his identity as one of the Firstborn.

Aragorn watched carefully over his friend, reminding him when he should go indoors and warm himself, urging caution when he climbed a tree, and taking him on midnight forays to the kitchens when the elven dinners left their human appetites unsated. 

Legolas never seemed to dwell on what he had lost, but one day, he surprised Aragorn with a request. "My friend, I have need of help only you can provide." Legolas said to him.

"I will do whatever you ask, _mellonin_." Aragorn was quick to reply.

Legolas laughed at his friend's eagerness to help. It was nearly spring, and they would likely be setting out in a few weeks, but Legolas felt unprepared. "I would have you teach me, Aragorn."

Aragorn? Why would Legolas use his real name? At his puzzled expression, Legolas explained. "Man to man, my friend. Teach me."

"Teach you what? I can think of naught that you have not mastered."

"I need to know if I can defend myself as men do." Legolas found it hard to admit his own weakness, but he trusted Aragorn with things he would not trust to any other.

"You are an experienced warrior, Legolas. What could I teach you?"

Legolas allowed his frustration to show. "I am an elven warrior, trained in the elven ways to fight as elves would fight. My skills depend greatly on the senses of an elf. I have not those senses any longer." He looked away fighting the despair he found himself battling so often. Turning back to his friend with eyes glistening, he continued. "I would not be a burden on the battlefield. It is a long road to Lothlorien, and spiders, wargs, wolves, and orcs—not to mention any other of the evil creatures that walk Middle-earth—may stand between us and our destination. I do not wish to find myself depending on skills I do not have. I would not see one of you fall because I could not properly wield my weapons!"

"Legolas

"The Enemy knows that you live! He cannot see us while we are under Elrond's protection, but when we leave Imladris, he may try once more to kill you or lead you to Shadow. Regardless of the likelihood of such an attack, certainly spiders, orcs, wargs, and wolves are likely enough. I do not know if I have lost my skills with bow and blade as I have lost my" he paused and looked away again. "my other skills." He turned pleading eyes on his friend. _"Saes, gwadornin."_ (Please, my brother.)

Aragorn nodded. "As you will, _gwadornin_. Let us go to the practice fields."

They each gathered their weapons and met on the fields. Legolas was filled with trepidation. He had wielded no weapons since the day he had liberated Aragorn from Dorlin. With all that he had lost, he could not help but wonder how much his prowess with weapons had been affected.

Aragorn sensed his friend's fears. He set up a few targets and had Legolas warm up with his bow. The first few flew wide of the mark, and Legolas felt despair touch him. Exasperated, he turned to Aragorn. "What is it I do wrong?"

Aragorn considered the question. "In truth, Legolas, I think you try too hard." He retrieved the elven arrows from the target and returned them to the Prince. "Try again, but erase these foul thoughts from your mind. Your eyesight may be less than it was, but that should not affect these shots. They are not so far away that human eyes cannot find them. Try again."

Legolas clearly did not believe Aragorn, but he did as he was told. This time each arrow hit precisely where he'd intended. 

  
Aragorn laughed, delighted. "There! You see! Your archery skills are as they ever were, _mellonin!"_ He reached for his sword. "Sword or knives next, my friend?"

Legolas drew his knives and the two sparred. Here, Legolas' skills had suffered. His balance seemed off, and his steps were not so graceful as they once were. After fifteen minutes, Legolas halted. "This is not so easily fixed. What do I do wrong now?"

Aragorn moved to his friend's side. "Your balance, my friend. You are not so light on your feet any longer, and you have not the speed of an elf. Your muscles try moves they can no longer achieve. Here" Aragorn demonstrated a move he had adapted from watching his brothers spar. It was in answer to moves only elves could properly perform, and compensated for their grace, and speed with the force and strength a human could achieve. 

It took hours for Legolas to learn such moves as he fought against the training of centuries, but his determination did not falter. The two worked well past the amount of time either would normally have spent in such practice. Indeed, only Lord Elrond's sudden appearance halted them.

Aragorn saw his father approach, and gestured to Legolas. Both stopped and waited for the Lord of Imladris to approach. Only then did Legolas realize he was panting from exertion.

"Do you realize that you two have been out here for nine hours? Enough is enough! I would wager you have not eaten or quenched your thirst in all those hours, either." Elrond smiled at the pair, wondering where they found their stamina.

Aragorn nodded, chagrined to have given no thought at all to such things.

"It was my fault, Lord Elrond," Legolas insisted. "Aragorn has been teaching me how to move like a human."

Elrond glanced at his son who nodded in confirmation. "I have been teaching him such things as I can, but we are both capable of calling a stop to the exercises, so in that, I cannot let Legolas take all blame."

  
"Whoever is to blame, you should both come inside. It is not yet spring, and you will be chilled after such exertions if you do not each take a hot bath. Come." Elrond ushered his wayward patients inside.

**

Several weeks later, Elrond called Aragorn into his Library. "Estel, I need you to give me more details of your confrontation with the Enemy while we yet remain in my protected realm. I would know precisely what happened."

Aragorn nodded and went over the details. His memory was oddly sharp and he recalled details he thought would have faded by now. 

"So, he did use the Black Speech?" Elrond asked.

"Yes, though I knew not what he said until he switched to common." Aragorn admitted.

"And when did you become aware of Legolas?"

Aragorn considered the question. "I heard him calling to me. Telling me he was there and that I should come back to the light." His brow furrowed as he recalled the words and images with which the Enemy had bombarded him. The terror of them came back to him filling his soul with fear and dread. Death and pain to all he loved because of him, because of who he was, because of an accident of birth! Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, LegolasArwen! The images came clearly back to him! He could not allow it! He could not

"Estel!" 

  
Aragorn snapped back to the present, the desperation in his eyes slowly melting away as his mind sorted through what was memory and what was real. His heart seemed stuck in his throat, and, in a very human way, he needed physical contact. As he had done when he was a small child, he threw himself into Elrond's arms, desperate to confirm his father was there and not laying bleeding and broken in some dark dungeon in Mordor.

__

"Adar!"

"Estel, what is it?" Elrond fell into the habits he'd picked up while raising Estel. He stroked Aragorn's back, whispered soothing words, and focused his physical presence on his son, infusing him with his healing presence.

Aragorn gradually loosened his hold, feeling slightly foolish for clinging to Elrond like a child. "Forgive me, _Adar_. The memory overwhelmed me."

  
Elrond nodded. "Do not apologize, my son. It is the Enemy we speak of. It would be a wonder if you did not find the memory overwhelming." He looked over his son with the eyes of a healer and the eyes of a father. "You said before that Legolas held you close until Elladan and Elrohir could join you in breaking the Enemy's grip. What did you mean?"

"He chanted something, and it kept me from sinking like a log on the water can save a man from drowning." 

Elrond considered the words. His son had always had this Enemy, indeed, his mother, Gilraen had lived in great fear that Sauron the Deceiver would find her son, and had seen signs that he was hunted all her life, but Legolas had been an unknown to Sauron and his minions. That had changed. The elf had put himself between Aragorn and the Enemy twice now. The Enemy would not forget. "Aragorn," Elrond began startling his son by using his given name. "You have faced this sooner than I would have liked. You will find your steps observed from now until you defeat him or are defeated yourself." Worry creased his brow. "Would that you had waited before seeking out such strife, my son."

Aragorn knew he had to trust his father's words, but he would not have the elf lord grieve for him yet. "It is well, _Ada_. The Enemy has looked for me all my life. All that has changed is that I know I can face him on his terms."

"Do not think that because you have faced him he is no threat." Elrond's admonishment fell on willing ears. "The Enemy is only beginning to gather his strength and his forces. You will likely find him more formidable a foe when next you meet."

  
Aragorn nodded. "My concern is not for me, but for those I love. Legolas has suffered most from this confrontation and that I cannot abide!"

Elrond watched as his son faded only to have a King stand in his place. "We will find a way to help him, my son." 

Aragorn knew they would. He had made a vow.

**

A few days after Elrond and Aragorn had spoken, Legolas once again practiced with Aragorn in the fields. Legolas was a quick study and soon the two had fallen into a pattern, practicing every day until Elrond called them inside. Their practice sessions were sometimes full of jest and high spirits, and sometimes somber and intense depending largely on the elf's mood, which, true to elvish demeanor, could change in the passage of a moment.

The two faced each other, Aragorn with sword in hand and Legolas wielding his long knives. The clang of metal upon metal mingled with the grunts and breathing of the confrontation did not drown out the familiar voice. "I think you've both had enough for one day!"

Legolas froze at the sound of that voice, for it was not Elrond who spoke to them. He whirled around to face the other elf who approached across the field. "Aglarelen!" He shouted and broke into a run. He and his brother embraced.

  
Legolas felt both comforted and fearful. Would his brother accept him now that he was not an elf?

As if hearing his thoughts, Aglarelen pulled far enough away to look his brother in the eye. "_Adar_ told me all he knew. _Ú-'osto, gwanurnin_. _Im sinome ni le._ I always will be." (Fear not, my brother. I am here for you.)

Legolas smiled then and began to laugh from relief.

"I could not let you face this with none of your family present." Aglarelen turned to Aragorn. "Though I know you would not be alone." He looked pointedly at Aragorn. "L_e hannon, Estel_. I am grateful that you have been here for Legolas." (Thank you, Estel.)

**

Legolas sat in his room—a room that he'd used whenever he'd visited Imladris—and stared out of the window. He longed to leap out of it and run through the trees, but an odd lethargy had overtaken him earlier that day. He had not joined Estel in the practice fields, and had claimed merely that he was tired and wished to rest. Estel had been worried but could not gainsay him.

He had rested. In truth, he had barely moved. For some reason, this day the absence of the Song had become unbearable to him. He had felt its absence keenly since he had lost it, but had been able to push it to the back of his mind and do what needed doing. 

  
What made this day different he could not say, but he lacked any motivation to rise. He sat alone, watching the sunlight shift with the passage of the day, and recalled to his mind what he knew of the Great Song. He found now, however, that his quite human memory could recall less and less. As an elf, he had always recalled every moment with perfect clarity. The passage of time was no hindrance to elven memory, and the morning he's spent with his mother many centuries ago had always been as clear as the morning he had just spent. 

Now, his memories faded. He remembered things, but not details. He remembered his Naneth, but found he could not recall her voice as she sang to him of the trees they both loved so dearly.

He wanted to fly into a rage over this, but found himself sitting numbly in the chair as the sun sank below the horizon and the shadows grew long.

Soon, only the light of the moon penetrated his room.

He had heard his brother enter and speak to him, but he had not moved. He had heard Estel come to join Aglarelen. He had heard the increasing concern in their voices as they tried to rouse him, but, even when one of them stood in front of him blocking his view of the window, his gaze did not shift.

  
Odd, he thought, as he heard Estel run from the room calling for Lord Elrond. I should tell them I am all right, he thought, and was puzzled when he could not seem to do this. 

  
Some small part of him, he realized, was in a state of panic. Somewhere deep within, he felt he was screaming and yelling and trying to ask for help, but it was buried deep and he could not seem to connect with it.

Aglarelen knelt by his side, taking his hand. Legolas wondered why he could not feel it. That part of him panicked again, but he was becoming accustomed to ignoring it. He recognized the strangeness of his behavior and his emotions, but could do naught about it. Fleetingly, he wondered if he should not force himself to rise, but he found he cared not.

**

Lord Elrond rushed into Legolas' rooms finding the young elf exactly as Estel had described him. He moved to the elf's side barely noticing when Aglarelen moved to make room for him. Frowning, the elf lord looked into Legolas' eyes, then felt his head but found no fever. There was no new injury, but then Elrond had not expected new injury. In his heart, he knew this was connected to the strange malady that had robbed Legolas of his— elfness—for lack of a better term.

__

"Legolas! Lasto beth nin! Tolo dan nan galad!" Elrond poured great effort into those words. 

  
Legolas did not respond, though that small part of him that had panicked was greatly relieved at Elrond's presence. 

The Elf Lord sent for teas and herbs and tried every trick he'd ever been taught and a few he'd concocted on his own. Nothing he brewed would Legolas try. Then he realized this was a much more basic problem

Elrond looked at Aglarelen, distraught and worried for his brother, then at Estel. A look of intense fear for his friend covered his face. Looking then towards the door where Elladan and Elrohir lingered, he called to his twins. "Come. Get them out of here! They should not see what I will do."

Elladan was startled by the words wondering what his father planned to do, but he and Elrohir did as they were told.

When Elrond was alone with the Prince, he stood over the elf, and steeling himself for what he was about to do, slapped Legolas hard across the face. Legolas' head snapped back and hit the back of the chair, but the prince simply moved back into the position he'd occupied all evening. Elrond slapped him again, harder. Then again. Each blow was like a knife to the Elf Lord's heart. Elves did not strike other elves easily, and, though he knew this was necessary, he wished fervently that it was not so.

**

  
Legolas felt Lord Elrond's ministrations, but could not seem to think of anything except the absence of the Song. The teas and herbs did no good for Legolas could not be persuaded to swallow.

He wished to tell Lord Elrond that it was all right and that he need not worry, but the words once again would not come.

A sharp sting on his cheek closely followed by a hard knock on the back of his head surprised Legolas, but not enough to provoke a response. Settling again in the position he'd occupied all afternoon, he was again surprised by a much sharper blow.

By the fifth time Lord Elrond had struck him, Legolas felt a tear slide down his face. He thought that perhaps he should try to say something. The part of him that had felt panic and relief earlier leaped to the forefront. Legolas felt another tear slide down his face and wondered if that would be enough to communicate with Lord Elrond.

**

Elrond was preparing to strike another blow, when he saw a tear on Legolas' cheek.

  
_"Legolas! Legolas! Ernil-o Taur-e-Ndaedelos! Lasto beth nin! Tolo dan nan galad!"_ Elrond's heart leaped when another tear and then another left Legolas eyes. Elrond took the Prince's face in his hands and spoke very softly. "Legolas! Do not despair! Return to us!" (Legolas! Legolas! Prince of Mirkwood! Listen to my voice! Come back to the light!)

As Elrond watched, Legolas took a sudden, deep shuddering breath, his hands gripping Elrond's wrists. He blinked several times, and looked up into the eyes of the Lord of Imladris. Finding no words, he flung himself around Elrond's neck and began to weep. At first it was almost elven, but as the raw emotions bubbled to the surface, the sorrows and fears that he had kept inside took over until loud human sobs and cries of anguish filled the room. 

When finally the prince gained control of himself, Elrond dared ask. "Legolas, what has happened?"

"It was the Song. I know not why, but this day it became unbearable to me that I cannot hear it. I feel cut off, disconnected. The more I realized how much I wished to hear it, the more keenly I felt its absence." He swallowed then with difficulty as his throat was raw and aching from lack of drink and overabundance of crying.

"I am sorry, Lord Elrond, to have been such a burden to you and your family. I had not meant"

"Legolas, it is no burden. We must help you! Now, I know the Song is important to you, my dear Prince, but perhaps we can keep this longing at bay by filling your ears with music of another kind."

Legolas nodded, though he doubted it would help. From that day forward, the elves of Imladris filled the Prince's room with song. Though it did not make him forget Iluvatar's Song, it did give him some idea how much the elves, and the human, of Imladris cared for him.

**

A few days later, upon the first day of spring, the company set out. Legolas, Aglarelen, Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond, Glorfindel set out for Lothlorien.

The journey would be long, they knew, but it was the purpose of the journey, which haunted the travelers though they tried not to show it. 

Sometime during the second week after their departure, Aragorn stirred the stew he was making for their supper though he managed to surreptitiously watch Legolas, who sat nearby hard at work fletching. Aragorn knew this evil spell wore his friend's patience, but he knew no way to help. He did not know what they would do if the Lady Galadriel did not.

He hoped Elrond was right and that Galadriel would know what to do about this. Lothlorien was a long way off, however, and worrying about the end of their journey when they had barely begun would get him nowhere. 

To Be Continued

Alexis: Interesting sense of humor you have, but, yeah, you're probably right!

Jade: (Blushes) Thank you! I'm flattered and thrilled that you think so!

Tithin Min: In that case, I graciously accept your compliments! I had no intention of offending! All kidding aside, thanks so very much for your kind words.

Felian: The line about 'human eyes' was purposely to set up Aragorn's amused response. And I think it likely that Legolas would have a bit of self-pity at the thought of seeing something with less than his usual senses. As a really poor example: I was at one time a huge fan of the Star Wars franchiseuntil I realized it was a franchise just like McDonalds!—Don't get me started! No, I am still a fan, though I am disappointed by a few things. Anyway, a week before the premiere of Episode One, something inexplicable happened to my vision, and for some time I thought might be going blind. The doctors had no clue what was wrong, and oddly one of the weird thoughts that crossed my mind was that after waiting 16 years for a Star Wars movie, I wasn't going to be able to see it clearly. My vision has corrected itself, and I don't even need glasses anymore, even though I had a relapse a short time ago. Bad example, I knowbut that's what I was getting at. Diminished abilities are hard for anyone to deal with. And for an elf to see what is purported to be the loveliest of Elven Realms with diminished sight in no way suggests that he looks down on those who have such sight. For a human to see with human sight is a good thing. For a human to see with elvish sightthat's The Sentinel! LOL! When I thought I might not see clearly again, though I knew I had an interminable number of things for which to be thankful, I was devastated beyond belief that I couldn't see as I had seen before.

Cbloe Amethyst: Thank you! That's just how I wanted Thranduil to seem!

Bill the Pony2: Thanks!

  
Leggylover03: Thanks! Yeah, I've never seen Aragorn's full elven name used either. Probably there's a reason, but if there is, I don't know it! 


	6. part 6

****

Author's Note: More angst and anguish!

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this.

Please read and review. 

Encroaching Darkness by Ecri

Part 6

Legolas had never walked through any realm of Middle-earth and felt so cut off from it. Staying in Rivendell all winter had given him time, or so he'd thought, to adjust to hishumanity. He had thought, once he had learned to move in a more human way from Aragorn, that he would be well able to handle the road to Lothlorien with little trouble. He had not counted on the aching absence of the Song. He had not thought the loss of his skills and senses would be so hard to bear beneath blue skies.

Aglarelen rode next to him, casting sideways glances at his youngest brother, gauging his health and his spirits. Not liking the melancholy that seemed to settle over Legolas, Aglarelen broke the uneasy silence. "My brother, you should speak to me of your worries."

Legolas allowed himself a grim smile. "You know my worries, and I fear giving voice to them may make them all the more real to me. That I do not need."

"No, I suppose you don't. I am here to help, Legolas. Tell me what I can do."

"There is naught I can think of. Your presence alone gives me comfort." He halted his horse's easy canter and his brother drew to a stop beside him. "I am glad that you have come."

Aglarelen offered his brother a comforting smile. "As am I, my brother." 

The two continued on, trailing after Glorfindel and Elrond who were deep in conversation. Glorfindel, having known Elrond for countless years, studied the Elven Lord carefully.

"You fear for the Prince."

Elrond's mouth was fixed in a grim line. "I worry for him, certainly. I still believe this is our only course, but if Galadriel and Celeborn cannot help him" he trailed off for a moment allowing the horrible scenario he had described to play out in his mind. Shaking his head, he continued. "I cannot tell what that would do to him. I cannot tell if he would be permitted the solace of Valinor or the Halls of Mandos if he remains mortal, or if he would share in the fate of the line of Elros."

Glorfindel looked shaken by this revelation. "You think that likely?"

"I do not know. It is certainly possible." He spared a glance behind him towards the two princes of Mirkwood. "I am afraid there is little we can do until we reach Lothlorien. Even speculation at this point will yield no inspiration."

Glorfindel followed Elrond's gaze taking in Aglarelen and Legolas and their attempts to bolster their own spirits. He offered a silent prayer that the Valar be with Legolas and the rest of their company.

**

The party had traveled for several weeks without incident, their swift elven horses eating up the distance between Rivendell and Lothlorien. They were barely halfway there, however, and Elrond's senses warned him their road would not continue as easily as it had started.

He drew to a halt, his eyes scanning the area looking for a threat only an elf could sense. Glorfindel and Aglarelen followed suit. Elladan and Elrohir were scouting ahead. Legolas, trailing behind Elrond with Estel seemed confused by the sudden halt, and, seeing his companion searching their surroundings, hands on sword hilts and quivers, he cast a nervous glance in Estel's direction. Estel shrugged indicating he had heard nothing.

Legolas' eyes searched for threats as well, but he found nothing. Uncomfortable with this lapse, accustomed as he was to having the sharpest senses and the earliest hint of danger, he struggled with his own frustration. Estel, knowing his own instincts were less swift than those of the elves with whom he traveled, drew his sword and waited. Legolas, following his lead, drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it, moving it from point to point hoping to acquire a target.

Just then, Elladan and Elrohir broke through the brush before them, weapons drawn. Seeing the company at the ready, they called out their warning. "Orcs!"

To Legolas' embarrassment, his companions, as though planning it all along, maneuvered their steeds and formed a crude circle around him keeping him from immediate harm. Fighting back the feeling that they did not trust him, he waited patiently for a target. Even with diminished senses, he was the first to bring down an Orc, felling one of the foul creatures as it raised a sword in preparation of striking Elladan from behind.

Glorfindel urged his horse forward, allowing Elladan to take his place in the circle protecting Legolas. The warrior raised his sword high and screamed loudly. "_Gurth an glamhoth!"_ (Death to the din-hord!)

The first line of orcs faltered slightly, but recovered quickly. Soon the entire company was engaged in a fierce fight against the foul creatures.

Aragorn ran through one orc moments before it would have grievously injured Elrond. The elf nodded in gratitude and continued his own battle. Aragorn swung around again and saw Aglarelen besieged by three orcs wildly meeting their attack, though it was quickly becoming difficult for him as half his attention lingered on his brother, who had leaped from his horse to attack one of the three from behind.

Algarelen, fearing for Legolas' life, was not paying enough heed to the other two orcs. One drew a knife and slashed forward catching Aglarelen's right forearm as the elf drew back his sword to lunge at the orc occupying his brother. Hissing at the sudden, unexpected pain, he turned to hack at the one who had injured him only to find Aragorn standing over its dead body and engaging the third orc already.

It was when Aragorn drew back his arm to deal the orc a fatal blow that he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder.

"Estel!" Legolas yelled and raced to his friend, who had tumbled from his horse with the force of the orc arrow that had struck his shoulder.

Legolas killed the orc who had struck his friend, and stood before the human and the enraged remaining creatures as they tried to move in for the killing blow. Slowly, Aragorn got to his feet, winded by the blow from the arrow. He seized the arrowhead, snapped it off, and pulled the shaft from his body ignoring the pain. 

Aglarelen, finding himself unmolested, dismounted and stood at his Aragorn's and Legolas' side. The trio faced the approaching monsters determined to hold them off or run them through. As Aglarelen and Aragorn traded sword blows with the creatures, Legolas found he had the room to draw his bow. Nocking arrow after arrow, he let them fly at their adversaries, not even taking notice of the elven accuracy with which they flew. 

Pleased with his success, he took advantage of a brief respite to turn to Aragorn and Aglarelen, only to find both in serious combat with two of the largest orcs he'd yet seen. Nocking another arrow, he let it fly, seeing it lodge itself in the neck of the orc fighting Algarelen. 

Turning then to Aragorn, he was horrified to see the orc the human fought drawing back his sword, which he held in a one-handed grip, to strike at the Numenorean. As Aragorn moved his own sword to block the blow, the orc drew a knife with its free hand and buried it up to its hilt in the human's stomach. Aragorn's face showed his surprise as his sword slipped from his hand, and he crumpled to the ground.

Glorfindel, in the meantime, had killed several orcs, but was now faced with two large, fierce creatures. One approached him from behind and the other from in front. Glorfindel struggled to keep both in view, but, more cunning than most of their kind, they continually stepped with him, keeping him between them.

Unable to fight both, he attacked the one before him, and was soon covered in foul black orc blood. Turning in wonderment at the fact that the second orc had not attacked, he saw Elrond, cleaning his sword on the dead thing's clothes. 

Glorfindel glanced to his right and saw Elladan assisting Elrohir out of a bind. Turning to his left, he saw a sight that froze his blood. "Elrond! It is Estel!" He pointed, and Elrond broke into a run seeing his youngest son lying in the grass unmoving, an orc leaning over him even as Aglarelen and Legolas engaged the creature and several other orcs who had run to the large one's side. Reaching the younger elves, he added his own strength to their blows, sparing a brief look at Glorfindel when his friend joined them.

In moments it was over, the orcs either dead or running. Elrond wasted no time falling to his son's side. "Estel?"

Aragorn opened his eyes as his father gently rolled him over so he faced upwards. "Ada"

Elrond cut him off with a wave of his hand as he laid his hand on the hilt of the sword that still protruded from his son's belly. He waved Glorfindel over, and the elf held Aragorn still while Elrond quickly tore the blade from Aragorn's body.

  
Aragorn let out a low moan as the pain hit him, though he was still and silent while Elrond treated and wrapped the wound. 

  
Legolas stepped forward then, crouching by the elf lord, concern all over his face. "Estel was hit by an arrow in his right shoulder. I do not know if it held poison."

Gravely, Elrond nodded and inspected the wound relieved when he saw no sign of poison. Wrapping that wound as well, he then carefully wiped the sweat from his son's brow with water Glorfindel had supplied to him. Aragorn struggled to rise. "Ada"

"Be still, my son. You are wounded."

Aragorn wanted to protest, but could not.

Glorfindel knelt at Elrond's side. "Is he well?"

Elrond hesitated, but spoke in low tones. "He has lost much blood, but there is no sign of poison."

"Can he ride? We should mount and move on. The orcs may return in greater number and it would be well if we could be far from here by the time they do."

Elrond nodded, standing. He would have preferred Aragorn have a bit of time to heal, but he saw the wisdom in his friend's words. He looked for further injury among the others. Legolas, Elrohir, Elladan, and Glorfindel were well, but Aglarelen was bleeding from a wound on his arm. Elrond gestured for him to sit while he cleaned, treated and wrapped that wound as well.

Once that was done, he looked them over. "We have far to go, and Glorfindel is right. We cannot stay here. Come. We ride."

The others nodded, and mounting their steeds, waited for Glorfindel and Elrond to help Aragorn onto his own horse. As Elrond released his son's hands, Aragorn held on tightly. "Ada"

"What is it, Estel?"

"You must tie my hands to my saddle."

Elrond recoiled as if the request had been a physical blow. "Nay, Estel"

"Ada, we must ride hard, and I fear I lack the strength. My head pounds now with the effort of remaining upright." He gestured to his horse. "You have no need to fear for Rian will not allow me to be hurt, but I cannot stay mounted without assistance."

  
Elrond wanted to argue, but knew they wasted time. The orcs may have found reinforcements by now. Giving his son a nod, he reached for some rope Aragorn stored in his saddlebags. Carefully, he tied his son's hands to the pommel of his saddle. Neither too loose nor too tight, the rope kept the human upright, yet did not cut into his flesh. When he'd finished, Elrond looked into his son's eyes and placed a hand on his knee briefly before turning to his own mount.

Soon, the company rode swiftly in the direction of Caras Galadon.

**

The Great Eye watched as his orcs retreated from the elves and the human who could well spell his doom. Anger and frustration stirred his wrath. He would have to find other ways to deal with these Firstborn who would aid the human. He considered what evil was at his disposal, and slowly a plan began to form.

  
Elation that his schemes had not yet come to naught, Sauron called to his minions. He would strike hard and he would strike soon.

**

The blue skies above Lothlorien spoke clearly to the hearts of the elves who lived there, yet one elf saw things no other could. Galadriel, Lady of the Wood, had stared into her mirror earlier that day and had found only disturbing images. 

The Great Eye, the fall of Numenor, the Last Great Alliancethe mirror seemed to show the past in all its most horrifying moments. Then, the images had shifted. She saw Mithrandir on horseback moving swiftly through some country she could not identify, though whether because it was far from her realm, of the Mirror did not reveal enough details she could not tell. She saw his face, concerned and scowling, and knew something troubled him.

She saw Mirkwood then, King Thranduil upon his throne looking distracted.

Then she saw Elrond, her daughter's husband dressed in traveling clothes rather than the robes he wore in the Last Homely House. A fierce look darkened his countenance as Elrond slew orcs and moved to protect one he loved.

The images had ceased then, and no more could she learn. She would try again later, and she would increase her border guards giving them strict orders to escort Elrond or Mithrandir to her immediately should they arrive. Her border guards were accustomed to such orders and did not find them amiss.

Celeborn came to her side then, looking out over Caras Galadon with her from this, the highest of their flets. "My love, what troubles you?"

Galadriel kept staring out over the vast expanse of land before them, not even aware that she looked in the direction of Imladris. "Some great evil is at work again. A Shadow grows and covers the space between us and our closest kin."

Celeborn liked not the sound of those words. "What have you seen?"

Galadriel hesitated for several moments before replying. "Not enough."

**

The company rode hard and fast until well past sunset. Then, out of necessity, they called a halt. Aragorn needed rest and water, as did the horses or they would not last another day.

Legolas assisted in the making of camp, but it was only when they were all seated around the campfire, Elrond tending again to Aragorn's wounds, that he felt ready to speak to his brother.

Aglarelen sat near him, and though he was comforted by his brother's presence, he also chaffed at the idea that Aglarelen only hovered nearby believing his youngest brother incapable of caring for himself.

"Aglarelen" he called softly, hoping to get the answers he needed without having to take this up with the rest of the group. He would not wish to chastise Elrond or Glorfindel, but if he discovered what he feared he would, he worried his frustration might loosen his tongue.

"Yes, Legolas?"

"When we were attacked" he faltered, embarrassed by both what he had perceived and at having to speak of it. "Had you and the others discussed circling around me during attack? Did you do it because you do not believe I am capable to fight at least as well as Estel?"

Aglrarelen gaped at his brother. "We sought to protect you, it is true, but we did not do so out of any notion that you cannot protect yourself!"

"Yet you herded me safely to the center of the group and fought more than your share of beasts so that I might be spared"

  
Aglarelen held up a hand. "Nay, brother, you are mistaken. We meant no insult." He leaned closer to his brother then locking his eyes on the young elf's and taking his hand. "You do not understand. I fear for you. I fear you will be taken from me now, for you are more vulnerable than ever before."

Legolas scowled. "You do not trust my skills!"

"Brother, you do not trust your skills! But, nay, that is not the reason. I fear because you are mortal nowor at least you may be. Even Lord Elrond cannot say for sure, but if you are, you do not pass to the Halls of Mandos. If you are, you do not pass to Valinor." His voice cracked. "I once told you that yours is the dearest life in Middle-earth to me, and that remains true. I would not see you die, when I have no clue what that means for a mortal!"

Legolas was silent absorbing his brother's words. Truly, he had not thought of these things. Clearly Aglarelen had thought of them keenly. "Forgive me, my brother."

"There is no need of that, my brother. I know why you ask what you ask. Were I in your shoes, it would be difficult not to think as you do." Aglraelen squeezed his brother's hand. "Get some rest, Legolas. We will ride hard again tomorrow. Estel is in need of healing."

Legolas nodded and turned to look at his best friend. Elladan had placed Aragorn by the fire and Lord Elrond was again checking his wounds, while Elrohir prepared some sort of tea.

Legolas hoped they were not serious, and the lack of poison was encouraging, but Aragorn had lost–and was still losing–a lot of blood. Such injuries, even without poison could prove fatal. If Aragorn lost his life in a quest to restore Legolas', the elf prince didn't think he could bear that.

To Be Continued

Grumpy: Thanks! I hoped that would be believable.

Jadelyn Rashwe: Thanks for the review! Yeah! I like the action, too, but I sort of put off writing it. I hoped it wouldn't sound too offif you know what I mean. I'm generally better with angst than action!

Bec: Thanks! He's not immortal until he's elvish again, or at least that's what everyone believes. I tried to address that in this chapter. 

Barbara Kennedy: Great phrase! I may just borrow that! I do think it would be hard for him to deal withaside from the obvious physical limitations, to take away the very essence of yourselfthe things that help define you as youthat's got to be tough to handle!

  
Andmetwen: No hints! I'm not exactly sure how this is going to turn out myself! You raise an interesting question about Legolas possibly having to relearn his elvish skills once he becomes elvish againassuming I make him elvish again(evil grin!).

Tithen Min: Thanks so much! Your reviews really make my day! The Father and Son relationships are really intriguing to me in this universe. I'm glad you liked that scene!

Felian: Thanks! Yes, I wanted a lot of emotion in this story as a whole. Those are my favorite things to write and to read. As I mentioned above to Jadelyn Rashwe, I don't think I write action too well, so I like to stick to emotional scenes. Yes, they didn't give Legolas a lot to do in the movie. I didn't see him as detached so much as melancholy, except of course when he was counting the orcs he slew at Helms Deep! He was downright jovial there!

White Wolf: I hoped I'd made Elrond's slapping of Legolas seem like a desperate move. Elves don't hit their children, and, though Elrond isn't his father, I don't think he would easily decide to attack Legolas for whatever reason.

  
Shadow Warrior: Thanks so much! I am thrilled that you're enjoying the fic!

Purplesmacker: Wow! Really flattering review! Thank you sooo much! I was a little concerned that my description of Legolas' connection to the song might be a little over the top! Proof that feedback is essential! Thanks so very much!  
  
Setrinan: No worries! I couldn't stop writing it if I triedwhich I won't. Sorry this chapter was so long in coming, but I was away for awhile and didn't have access to a computer. Thanks for you patience, and please keep reviewing!

Leggylover03: There will be plenty of evil along the way! LOL! One thing you can count on in LOTR fanfic is the evil to be encountered! Yes, I hope Galadriel can fix this, too! Hint: She may need help! (evil grin)

Chloe Amethsyst: Thanks! I was trying to capture that process myself. It is a difficult thing to deal with, and often it becomes all the person going through it can think about. (I've been there, too, as you will know if you read my previous reviews in other chapters re: eyesight.) It's harder than people realize. I know people who didn't realize what I was going through, and thought I'd improved more than I let on since I sort of kept my fears and worries internal. I'm glad you like the fic!

IrishChickie: Thanks! That was a wonderful thing to read! I will try to post my subsequent chapters much quicker than this one!

Strider's Girl: Hee! Nice handle! Thanks about Sauron! I was hesitant to use him, but I thought it would really help the story. Thanks again. I'm glad you're enjoying this.

Padfoot4ever: Thanks! Again, I am really sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I hope you liked it! Next one will be up quicker! 


	7. part 7

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this.

Please read and review. 

Encroaching Darkness by Ecri

Part 7

Lord Elrond couldn't say he was pleased with his son's injuries, but at least they had stopped bleeding. He had applied several herbs that had helped, and the tea he'd had Elrohir prepare should make Estel sleep until morning.

A strange feeling had haunted The Lord of Imladris since they had begun their journey. Something lingered just beyond the edge of his perception and he wondered what it might be. The more he pondered it, however, the more the thing seemed to slip away from him. He glanced toward Aragorn, sleeping almost peacefully, and reached out a hand to brush a lock of hair from the man's forehead. Whatever it was that he sought to identify, it would have to wait. Though he was loathe to admit it, the day's journey and the orc attack, not to mention worry for his son, had taken a toll on him. Comfortable with the thought that his sons and Glorfindel would handle this evening's watch, he drifted into a light elven sleep.

Legolas tried to rest. He knew he needed it, but he worried for his friend. Aragorn's injuries were severe, though he was sure Elrond would be able to heal him. Legolas was convinced that Aragorn had been injured, because the Ranger, and indeed the rest of their company had been too quick to shelter Legolas.

Aglarelen seemed to think that Legolas did not trust his newfound skills in methods of human battle, and Legolas knew this was partially true. Somehow, he worried he would be unable to defend his friends, his father, his brother, and that, somehow, he would cost them their lives. He thrust the thought away from him. He would not give in to despair! 

He watched Aragorn resting, but could tell the man did not yet sleep. Rising, he walked towards his friend. "Estel? Are you unwell? Shall I rouse your father?"

Aragorn rolled over to face his friend. "Nay, Legolas, I am well." At the raised eyebrow with which Legolas graced him, he smiled. "Well enough, at any rate. I simply cannot sleep."

Legolas did not reply immediately, but by his silence, Aragorn knew he wanted to say something.

"Legolaswhat is it?" The man asked. 

"Aragorn, you push yourself past endurance, and while I know why, I cannot allow it."

"My friend"

"I will not hear your excuses. I intend to speak to Lord Elrond. If he thinks you are not well enough to ride, we will rest here through the day tomorrow." Legolas wore an expression not unlike his father's when the King of Mirkwood had chosen a course of action from which he would not be swayed.

Aragorn hid a smile. Legolas seemed more himself each day. "It appears I have no choice."

Pleased that he had won the argument, yet suspicious of the easy victory, Legolas nodded. "Good. Now, rest Estel."

Aragorn settled down to do as his friend suggested, and to no one's surprise given his condition, he was immediately asleep.

**

Sauron watched the group with the many spies at his disposal. They still had far to travel, and the Servant of Morgoth had not used every resource at his disposal. Summoning two such resources, he put the task of waylaying the Ranger and his elf-friends to them. They knew better than to disappoint him.

He would have the Ranger's head before the elves had any chance of reaching their destination.

**

Lord Elrond rose early and quickly moved to Aragorn's side. Checking the wounds, he was pleased at the progress, yet still concerned for his son's health. It was not easy to acknowledge that his son was now, by human standards grown. To an elf, the number of years he'd lived seemed negligible. 

He recalled that day, years ago when he had agreed to take the child into his house, not merely as a refugee, but as his own son.

One look at the distraught two-year-old, struggling to put on a brave face for his mother, asking for his father, and not quite understanding what he was being told about Arathorn's demise, Elrond had lost his heart to the human child. He had vowed to Gilraen that he would not only keep Aragorn safe, but that he would take him in as a son of his own. Gilraen had been surprised, but gladdened by the vow.

Truly, it hadn't taken long before he found himself doting on the boy. His own sons and daughter were quite grown, and he had not realized how alive the Last Homely House was when little ones ran through its halls.

Something in the eyes of that two-year-old had spoken to Elrond's ancient soul, and he knew, somehow he was certain, that here was the man, the Numenorean, who would do what Isildur had failed to do. He had named the child Estel, and had kept his destiny secret, hoping to impart some short years of peace of mind and spirit, a time of easy smiles and easier laughter, before responsibility crashed down on his many times great-grandnephew.

He recalled the moments when he had told Estel his true name and destiny. His boisterous human son had grown quiet and thoughtful for a time, and Elrond had worried that he would never again see the carefree child he had grown to love behind those haunted eyes.

While, in many respects, that was true, there were moments when Estel came back to him–when he heard the deep, contagious human laughter mingled with its lighter elven counterpart, and he saw again the son he had reared. Often, now, that lighter elven laughter belonged to the Prince of Mirkwood. 

Legolas Thranduilion had been a name to Elrond. He'd met the young elf before, but there was little mingling of elven realms, especially after Legolas' birth. After Elrond had failed to save Legolas' older sister from wounds she'd taken in an orc attack, and grief had taken his mother, Thranduil's own anger and grief had effectively cut Mirkwood off from both Imladris and Lothlorien. There had long been rumor that the Elves of Mirkwood discussed mass migration, each taking leave for Valinor when their Queen and Crown Princess had departed for the Halls of Mandos. 

Elrond had been glad this had not happened. He recalled the bond of friendship Elladan and Elrohir had forged with Aglarelen and his brothers, but they had not often mentioned Legolas. There was quite the age difference between him and his older siblings, and Elladan had once remarked that the Littlest Prince's attachment to his oldest brother seemed stronger than it should have been. Elrond had assumed this was due to losing his mother and sister at such a young age. Legolas had been but 25 years oldthe human equivalent of perhaps 11 or 12, but having met both brothers he believed it was a much deeper bond, though tempered by the shared grief, the two would have been as close had their family remained intact.

Legolas had long been kept inside his father's palace, and rarely was permitted to leave palace grounds. Elrond knew this stemmed from Thranduil's desire to keep his youngest safe, especially since he so resembled his mother in both the physical and spiritual sense. He knew little then of Legolas' upbringing until one day when his son had met the youngest Prince of Mirkwood.

Their bond seemed strong. Elrond had seen them protect each other fiercely and knew that either would freely give his life for the other. He also knew that, were that ever to happen, the one left behind would be devastated beyond words.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Elrond again checked his son's wounds. They were better, but the Ranger needed rest. He would recommend to the others that they travel only as far as need dictated today.

**

Aglarelen watched his brother from the boughs of the tree upon which he perched. Legolas sat upon a log fletching his arrows. So engrossed was he in the task that Aglarelen doubted he could see anything else. 

  
Aglarelen had not been surprised at his brother's words the evening before. Legolas had long held strong beliefs about his own competence as a warrior, and who should or should not be protected. Even when his beliefs differed from those around him, like his father, Legolas would not back down in a war of words anymore than he would in a war of weapons.

Thoughts unbidden flooded the Crown Prince's mind, and he recalled meeting held in Thranduil's court some years back.

****

Flashback:

Several elves of some importance had thought to use Legolas' experiences to convince the Prince and his father to further isolate Mirkwood from the rest of Middle-earth, including Imladris and Lothlorien. The most exuberant with his opinions had spoken long and eloquently about the need for such isolation, and Legolas saw many heads at the council table nodding in agreement. Unable to hold his tongue, he had stood, his place at Oropherin's side with only his second oldest brother between himself and the King to left automatically giving him the floor. Aglarelen sat to his father's immediate right with Tarmathalion to Aglarelen's left. Thus, King Thranduil always insisted his sons sit at court to advise him, prominence given in order of conception. 

Aglarelen's stared disbelieving at Legolas when he stood. His youngest brother rarely spoke at the councils preferring to defer to his brothers and father, never believing he would have cause to do more than listen and keep abreast of the situations. He gave what reports he was asked to provide, and never shirked any duty, but foolishly underestimated his own importance to his King and his people.

When Legolas stood, being such a rare occurrence, he commanded the attention of all present. "By what right, then, would we hide ourselves away when we could offer aid to the other realms of Middle-earth?" The Prince asked.

"By right of the Firstborn!" The elf, several millennia his senior, had declared vehemently before quite realizing he was speaking to royalty.

"So only the Firstborn are of any concern to us? Then what if Imladris and Lothlorien? Long have we remained separated from our kin! Long have we neglected the ties we feel to others of our people! Why should we not at the least ally ourselves with them?" Legolas waited impatiently for the answers he sought.

"The Elves of the other realms do not understand us! They are Noldor and Sindar and have turned their backs on the ways of Silvan elves!" The elf let his anger speak when he should have given more thought to his words, especially in the Royal Court.

"Your King is Sindar!" Legolas roared. The Lady Galadriel is Noldor, As are Lord Celeborn! And Lord Elrond!"

Thranduil watched his son, as surprised as Aglarelen was over his youngest son's vehemence on this issue, but then, Legolas had often spoken in private with his father over the need to send and request aid from the other elven realms. Those conversations had been quieter, more reflective, for Legolas' character was not given to unnecessary fits of pique. The King wondered at his son's temper, but thought it prudent to allow the youngest prince free reign to say what troubled him since this was the first such interest he'd shown in an issue brought before the council.

The elf dignitary saw his mistake at once. He should not have spoken ill of all Sindar as though they were dwarves. "Forgive me, Prince." He turned then to Thranduil. "Forgive me, my King. I meant no disrespect."

"What _did_ you mean?" Legolas' question flew from his lips like an arrow from his bow, the aim just as good and just as deadly.

The elf turned back again to the prince. "I meant only to say that no one worries for Mirkwood, why should we worry for them."

"If that us what you meant, you are more a fool than I had thought!" Legolas snapped.

Thranduil cleared his throat and glanced at his son, obviously wishing to keep the debate as civil as possible. Legolas caught his eye and nodded, dropping the volume of his voice to a whisper so those in the room were forced to lean forward and then remain quite still to hear him properly, even with elven hearing.

"That is what you meant? For it sounded as though you believe Silvan elves to be somehow better than Noldor and Sindar elves." He shook his head sadly, and seemed to be momentarily distracted by something only he could hear. In a moment, he brought his full attention to the elf before him. "That would truly be a mistake, since, in the eyes of Iluvatar, we are all the Firstborn." He paused considering his next words and how best to make his point. "But that aside, am I to understand that you believe the Firstborn are superior to all others of Iluvatar's creation?"

The elf smiled, sure he was on safer ground. "Why, of course, my Prince!" The elf smiled, undoubtedly aware Legolas hated his title. "The Secondborn, the dwarves, none were meant"

Legolas had heard enough. "Watch what words you choose, for the wrong ones here will offend Iluvatar! You cannot think to know what He meant, nor indeed what the Valar intend! If Secondborn, Thirdborn of Afterthought are not welcome in this realm, perhaps, Oropherin, Tarmathalion, and myself would find ourselves better received in Lake Town!"

  
The elf stumbled over his words, uncomfortable with having been perceived as slighting the King's family. "That was not what I meant!" He turned desperate eyes on Thranduil, who only gazed at him thoughtfully, as though unconcerned with the spectacle playing out before his eyes. In truth, the King was distracted beyond words to hear his son refer to himself as an afterthought.

The elf turned again to the Prince, who still stood, irate and glaring at him. "Please, my PrinceI did not intend"

Legolas smiled. "Ahh! If you cannot even explain what you intend, how can you guess at Iluvatar's intention?" He sat then, as though the ire had drained him so much that he lacked the strength to stand as was often the case when he managed to become riled over something. He cast sad eyes on the elf with whom he'd argued. 

"Your first words to your King today were that you believe we should not involve ourselves in matters not our concern."

  
The elf nodded.

Legolas returned the gesture. "Yes. And with this I will agree."

The elf looked confused for a moment, as did everyone else at the table.

Legolas released a heavy sigh. "But, I believe that any matter of great concern to our neighbors must be of equal concern to us. We are the Firstborn, and so upon us falls the greatest blessings, and the greatest responsibility. You propose we turn our backs on Middle-earth because we are leaving these shores." He looked with such intensity at the elf, that the elf looked away unable to bear it. 

Thranduil was reminded of Galadriel just from the depth of sorrow in that stare.

"I tell you that is something I cannotI will not do. My love for them, for Middle-earth, would not allow such a thing. Regardless of that, it has long been my belief that what befalls the free people of Middle-earth cannot help but have some impact upon us all, even in Valinor." His voice had grown sorrowful and all who heard it could not but hear the truth in them.

****

End Flashback

Aglarelen had stared in wonder at his brother. He had seemed a different elf then. He still did not often take part in council meetings unless something drew his particular attention, but he paid much closer attention to the words that were uttered and what those words said or what they left unsaid. Legolas had become adept at wordplay then, keeping others in check with his quick wit and easy grasp of any given situation and his uncanny ability to sense what motivated those around him.

He had won that battle, and Thranduil had restored relation, albeit strained with the other elven realms.

Aglarelen looked back to his brother. Legolas was just finishing the work on his arrows, and rose. He headed towards Lord Elrond and Aragorn who seemed to be having a slight disagreement. Aglarelen saw his brother's smirk and needed no other reason to head in that direction himself.

Upon reaching the small group he realized Elrond wanted Aragorn to rest. Aragorn would not hear of delaying their trip towards Lothlorien no matter what the cause.

"Ada, I am well!"

"Aragorn! I have long been a healer, and my own counsel will I keep over who is well and who is not." He looked pointedly at his son, one eyebrow arching as he suppressed a smile. "And you are not."

Defeated, Aragorn hung his head.

  
Legolas laughed. 

"You would not laugh so easily if it was you who was injured and over whom everyone hovered!" Aragorn declared. Only when the words had left his mouth and hung irretrievably in the air did he realize what he had said and to whom he had said it.

Legolas stiffened slightly, remembering his own conversation with his brother after the attack. He knew precisely how it felt when everyone hovered. 

  
Aragorn looked at his friend. "I am sorry, _mellonim"_

Legolas waved away the words, determined not to take offense. "Nay. It is all right, Estel." He turned to leave, but Aragorn called him back, using a nickname he had used on only a few occasions and only in the happiest of circumstances. It was a name Legolas could not help but associate with friendship.

"FinlorI am sorry."

Legolas nodded. "I am well, Estel. I am not upset."

He walked away then, but Aragorn was not sure if his friend was being honest. Debating whether he should follow the elf, though he knew his father would not permit it, he was stopped only by Aglarelen's voice.

"Do not worry. He is well. I spoke to him last night. He does not enjoy being coddled, and it would be wise for us to remember that. If we do not, he will either be less himself when finally he is restored, or he will visit fierce retribution upon us!" Aglarelen laughed knowing his brother would find interesting punishments for them if he thought it necessary.

He sat then by Aragorn's side. "You called him Finlorgolden hairtell me why?"

  
Aragorn laughed. "I would have thought that was obvious."

"I ask why you have so named him for it seemed as though you have called him that before. None of my family, nor any other elf in Mirkwood, was ever permitted to call him anything but Legolas. Our mother named him that, and he would accept no other name, even in jest."

Aragorn had not known that. "He never said"

Aglarelen waved away the protest. "Ai! Do not worry yourself, Aragorn. If he was offended, he would not have accepted the name from you. Tell me why you call him that."

"It is a long tale" Aragorn began.

****

Flashback:

Estel sat near the Bruinen, the great River Loudwater that ran near Rivendell. So lost in though was he, that he heard no hint of danger until it was too late. With a great force shoving him from behind, he lost his balance and tumbled into the muddy banks of the Bruinen. Shaking mud off himself, he turned to see Elladan and Elrohir laughing at what damage they had wrought. 

"Truly brother, you are a sight!" Elrohir laughed.

"And I am that sight thanks to you!" He wiped some mud from his face and flung it at his brother, who dodged the shapeless projectile easily.

The sound of laughter filled the air and Estel turned then to see Legolas. He glared at the laughing elf, but was secretly glad to see him up and about. With his brothers and father returned to Mirkwood, Legolas had grown accustomed to spending his time with Elrond's sons.

"Do not laugh so at my expense, for these two will be paid back for what they have done!"

  
"I doubt it not, _mellonin_!" Legolas exclaimed still laughing,

Elladan then threw a handful of mud at the distracted Estel catching him squarely in the face. The elves laughed again.

Estel laughed, too, as though greatly amused, then tackled Elladan dragging him into the mud as well. 

  
Elladan sputtered. "Release me!"

"Nay! I think you should enjoy a bath in mud much more than you think! You should at least try!" He picked up a handful of mud and threw it at Elladan. Elladan, disgruntled at the sound of Elrohir's laughter turned to his twin. Elrohir sobered immediately, realizing just from the look on his face what he intended. "Do not do it, Brother!" Elrohir pleaded, but Elladan would not be stopped. 

In moments the three brothers were a tangle of limbs as they struggled in the mud.

Legolas sat nearby laughing more heartily than he had in agesuntil the three struggling brothers ceased their struggles and launched themselves at the Prince. Legolas' eyes grew wide, and he scrambled to his feet, moving away from the three mud-soaked figures. "Do not! I will not be hurled into the mud!" Legolas distaste for such a thought was obvious and only made the brothers more determined. Though he struggled as well he could, the threesome easily overpowered him. He landed with a thud in the mud and was given no chance for respite before the brothers were upon him again rolling him over and over and rubbing great handfuls of the slimy mud into his formerly golden hair.

  
Weak with laughter and struggling for breath, the brothers finally released the prince, who was, by now, laughing himself.

"I cannot believe you did that!" Legolas stood slowly, shaking his hands in a futile effort to remove the mud from them. As he did so, he slipped, losing his footing in the shifting, slippery mud and landing hard on his backside. This elicited another wave of laughter from the brothers. 

Standing again, he tried to get to dry land, away from the muddy banks, but again lost his footing from overmuch mud and laughter. Staying seated where he fell, he wiped at his face, squeezed his hair, and shook his legs, but all to no avail. His laughter melted away when he was unable to return at least to some semblance of himself. 

Elladan and Elrohir were helpless with laughter. Estel approached his friend amidst their warnings. "Do not get too close, Estel! An angered member of Mirkwood's Royal family is capable of anything!"

Legolas smirked, but did little else.

When Estel out a tentative hand out to help Legolas stand, Legolas face twisted in disgust! "Filthy human!"

"Elf boy!" Estel replied.

"I am no boy!" Legolas declared.

"No, perhaps I should have said elfling!"

"I am no elfling, either!"

"Adar tells me you are the youngest elf in Middle-earth." Estel offered.

Legolas continued to glare at him. "Filthy human," he muttered again.

Finally getting to his feet, he startled Estel by heading towards the Bruinen and not away from its banks. "Legolas, where are you going."

"I have no intention of tracking mud through the Last Homely House, Estel." 

  
The brothers exchanged glances. "Adar would not be happy if we did." Elladan admitted.

"No, certainly not." Elrohir agreed.

Estel followed Legolas to the water. Soon the four had washed most of the mud away, and the brothers returned to shore, surprised when they realized that Legolas had not followed and was indeed still immersing and reimmersing himself into the river's water.

  
"That is good enough, Legolas!" Elladan called to the Prince.

"Nay! I cannot abide the feel of mud in my hair!" 

  
The trio watched while Legolas dunked his head again and again into the clear waters until he was at last satisfied that it was as clean as he could make it. Only then did he walk towards the shore, stopping when he saw that he would have to walk through the mudhole again to reach his friends. He hesitated a moment.

"There is no way around, Legolas, come through and we will return home where you can take a bath." Estel called to his friend. 

Legolas glanced up then and smiled. With little effort and much grace, he swung up into the limbs of a tree whose branches hung low over the water. Effortlessly, he moved through the treetops and leaped down to land triumphantly upon the unmuddied ground.

The brothers glared at him. Elrohir turned to Elladan. "Why did we not think of that, brother?" His eyes were on his legs and shoes still covered in mud.

Elladan shrugged. "I do not know. Too long around a human I suppose!"

"Wait a minute! You cannot blame me!" Estel stared wide-eyed at his brothers.

"No, they cannot!" Legolas laughed. "In truth, the Noldor do not think like Woodland Elves! They have not the grace we have in the trees!"

Elladan smirked. "Prince or not, you cannot insult us like that!"

"Is it insult to speak the truth?" Legolas laughed leaping again into the treetops when Elladan lunged at him.

The Twins followed him, and Estel listened as the three elves laughed and chased each other, startled when Legolas again leaped downwards and landed easily inches from his human friend. 

  
Elladan landed next, and armed with mud he'd removed from his own legs and shoes, hurled it at Legolas, who was busy trying to dodge a similar attack from Elrohir. Alas, the elf could not dodge both, and was soon splattered again with mud dripping down his long hair and onto his face.

A short inarticulate yell laced with disgust reached Aragorn's ears as the Prince swiped futilely at his hair. Estel laughed with abandon. "It is the mud in your hair you find so distasteful, is it not?"

Legolas did not respond.

  
Estel continued to laugh. "Do not worry, Legolas, we will take you back to Imladris where you may bathe to your heart's content! Your hair will be clean againFinlor!"

Legolas glared at his friend, while Elladan and Elrohir laughed at the Prince's unease. "Truly, Estel is right! Are all Woodelves so vain about their appearance, or is it peculiar to Mirkwood's royalty?"

Legolas threw a bit of mud at the brothers, though it fell short of its mark. "I know not of what you speak, my friends. I am not vain. I merely prefer to be clean, and if you think me too fastidious, perhaps that is only because you have all adopted the grooming habits of a filthy human!"

Indignant, Legolas returned to the water and washed his hair clean.

Estel laughed. "There it is! He could not wait for the long walk to Imladris! There is Finlor!"

This time they all laughed as they headed back to Imladris to face Elrond, who would undoubtedly have something to say about their appearance.

****

**End Flashback

Aglarelen laughed lightly. "I never realized there would be things about my brother that I do not know."

Aragorn smiled. "It may be that he sought not to offend you. Accepting a name from me and not from kin"

Aglarelen nodded. "Yes, he would think that way, would he not?" Aglarelen glanced around the camp, his eyes easily finding his brother. The amusing story Aragorn had told faded as he watched Legolas struggle to reach the lower branches of the beech tree by which he stood.

  
Elrond saw his distraction. "We will find a cure, Aglarelen."

Aglarelen nodded wishing he could believe that as strongly as Elrond did.

**

They answered the call of the Great Eye. Both were delighted at the opportunity to prove themselves to their master, for he had long expressed disappointment in their successes. Carefully they wrote their spells and laid their trap. Killing the ranger would be easy. The elves were no deterrent.

  
The pair laughed in unison as they did everything. A cold chill crept through the warm breezes of early summer, and it seemed the very soul of Arda shivered.

To Be Continued 

Author's note: I know that was more of a flashback sort of a chapter, but I'm trying to build slowly to something. I hope you don't mind!

Strider's Girl: Thank you! I hope this doesn't disappoint!

Leggylover03: I am sorry this took so long, but I wanted to get it just right. I hope it was worth the wait! And there will be plenty more angst and pain before the story is over.

Xsilicax: See, you praised me for updating quickly and I fall behind! Sorry about that! Yeah, Legolas does need to learn to accept help more easily, but then, so does Aragorn! Besides, we wouldn't want to diminish the angst.

Tithen Min: Thanks! I'm glad you find my chapters gripping! That's a wonderful thing to hearread. ;)

Andmetwen: Tiny hint? Wellwithout giving anything away, I can tell you that Legolas will learn something from this.

Chloe Amethyst: The assumption of the elves was that Legolas, in the heat of battle, might forget what that he isn't an elf anymore, and that he might try to do something he's been doing in battle all his life, not be able to do it properly, and end up dead. Wow! Run on Sentence, much? LOL! I'm glad you like Legolas' family, and Aglarelen in particular. I've got another story about him and Legolas percolating in the back of my brain, and I might give that a try once I finish this one.

Padfoot4ever: hee! Thanks! I needed that!

  
White Wolf: Yeah! I agree! More elf angst! I'm pretty sure Aragorn will be fine. Legolas, toothough I guess that depends on my mood when I have to write it!

Sirithiliel: Thanks! I will! I have a good idea how everything will turn out, though I haven't quite worked out all the details!

Lady of Mirkwood: Thanks! I'm glad you like the mix!

Alivyan: Thank you for the review and for adding this story and my POTC fanfic to your favorite stories list! I love hearing things like that! You raise an interesting point that I had been pondering, but I was unsure how much I could heap upon poor Legolas without stretching credibility. I'll have to give this some thought.


	8. part 8

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this.

Please read and review. 

Encroaching Darkness by Ecri

Part 8

The sun crept higher into the sky casting its welcomed light across the land and chasing away the darkness of night. Lord Elrond's gaze was fixed upon the last lingering light his father cast upon Middle-earth, and the elf was comforted by the nearness of it yet saddened by the distance. Bittersweet was the most he could hope for here. It was only in Valinor that his heart would be lightened, yet, even there, he knew, his burden would never truly be left behind. Not when his children were left behind.

Arwen's decision to remain in Middle-earth had surprised Elrond, but she was unshakable. His only daughterdeeply in love with his foster son. Their tale would be as Luthien and Beren, and Elrond only wished there was some way he could change this. 

  
Elladan and Elrohir had not yet told him of their decision, but he would not blindly believe that they would sail to Valinor with him. He had believed so in Arwen's case. He had imagined his family reunited in the Undying Lands where he knew Celebrian awaited his arrival. He had never suspected his daughter would not come. He had assumed that only Elros had been touched with a desire for a mortal life. 

Though Arwen likely would not have chosen as she had if she had not met Aragorn. Aragorn. Estelthe hope of men. He had hated the thought of leaving him alone when he had first realized how much he loved the child descended from his own dear twin. Now, he feared he would be the one left alone. To sail to Valinor and explain to their mother that she would not see her childrenai, how could he bear it?

  
He remembered when his daughter had first told him of her choice.

****

Flashback:

Lord Elrond sat alone in his library staring out his window but seeing nothing of the beauty he surveyed. His thoughts were greatly troubled by his daughter's words. She had confronted him that evening knowing he wished for her to choose Valinor over her heart's desire. She had listened to his words as he had cruelly pointed out how she was destined to die alone and heartbroken before she had yet wearied of Middle-earth if she chose to stay with Estel. At first she had cried bitter tears at the sorrowful picture he had painted, but all too soon her indignation had flared and she had chastised him. 

"I see your mind, Ada, and I know why you would have me choose that path!" Her voice had softened somewhat and she had tenderly kissed him. "But Ada, my heart is not yours to command, nor is it mine. It belongs to Estel! As his belongs to me! Do not do this to me, and make our parting one of sorrow. Wish us well and understandfor me to make _your_ choice rather than my own would surely break my heart! For in Valinor or in Middle-earth, wherever I may be, without Estel I am not whole!"

She had turned on her heel then and walked from his study leaving him alone. Alone. He felt as though she had died and gone to Mandos already. He had wept bitterly as he had not since Celebrian had parted from him in the Grey Havens all those years ago.

Elladan had found him there, weeping in his room, and fearing something horrible had happened, had knelt at his father's side. The more his eldest son pleaded for him to tell him what had happened the more bitterly Elrond wept, until finally he had thrown his arms around his oldest son and clutched him fiercely in a desperate embrace. Elrohir had entered then, likely alerted by some silent communication or internal sense with his brother. His second son had embraced his father as well, and eventually the pair had coaxed from him the reason for his anguish.

They has listened to him in much the way Elrond himself had listened to their own tales of distress when they were younger, and some small part of the elf lord marveled at this reversal. That his sons should comfort him now, when their hearts were likely breaking as well finally broke him from his despair. Drying his eyes, he had sent them to bed claiming exhaustion and promising all would be well in the morning. 

He had meant to retire, but had found no strength in his limbs. Instead, he sat in his ever-darkening room and felt himself become numb. He stared upwards to he heavens and his own father's fading light as night melted into day.

****

End Flashback

  
Shaking off such thoughts with great effort, Elrond rose and moved to Estel's side. His youngest son had slept through the night with no cries of pain when he had shifted. Elrond was pleased to note the progress of his wounds, and even more pleased that Estel slept through his examination. If the man slept a few more hours, it would do him good.

He would recommend they continue their journey today. Estel was healing, and, truthfully, the Lord of Imladris didn't think he could stand any further delay himself. Legolas' future was too uncertain. He glanced over at the still sleeping elf, still unaccustomed to seeing him looking so human. Eyes closed in mortal sleep, the former elf seemed vulnerable somehow in a way that Elrond had never associated with him before. The absence of the Prince's elven glow was the hardest thing for him to bear. He knew Aragorn had helped Legolas to bear the changes, but he was just as certain that Mirkwood's youngest prince hid his anguish even from his friend.

Legolas, being sundered from Iluvatar's song, had hurt him. Legolas had always taken a great deal of comfort from the Song, especially from the trees. That he heard neither any longer would require him to find comfort elsewhere, and Elrond wasn't sure he would.

As the others in the party began to wake and move about, Elrond returned his attention to Aragorn. The human still slept, but it was a light sleep. He'd always slept lightly, the slightest change in his surroundings bringing him almost instantly awake. Elladan surmised that it was a good trait for a Ranger to have, as anyone that observant while asleep would certainly be able to spot trouble coming while awake.

Elrond smiled when he remembered Elrohir's quick reply. "If he's so good at spotting trouble, brother, why does he find it so difficult to avoid it?"

Aragorn's eyes opened then, blinking rapidly as he looked up at Elrond. "Ada"

"Estel. I was about to wake you. Can you sit up?" Elrond moved to help the young man sit up slowly. His muscles were stiff, but he did seem much better than he had been the night before. "We will start out again today," Elrond began, but raised his voice slightly at Aragorn's grin. "Provided I can trust you not to overexert yourself."

"Of course you can, Ada!"

Elrond raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

Aragorn turned then as Glorfindel approached with two plates passing one to his father and one to his brother. "You look rested, Estel!" Glorfindel smiled and looked questioningly at his Elrond.

Elrond nodded. "I was about to tell the others, we will head out today."

  
Glorfindel smiled. "I will tell them. You should eat."

  
"You think I would not if you did not tell me?"

"I have seen you miss more than one meal while tending to the injuries of any of your sons–or indeed those of their close friends!" Glorfindel laughed at the scowl that appeared on his friend's face. 

**

The morning air was sweet with the smell of flowers and warm with the kiss of the sun as the group traveled. The urgency of their journey was not lessened by the uncertainty of their course.

  
Gandalf looked once more at Galadriel. The Lady sat upon the bareback of her horse, the intensity of the sunlight gleaming off the white clothes, white mare, and golden hair. She glanced at him, a small, sad smile gracing her countenance. "I know no more than I have told you, Mithrandir. We are needed on this road." She pointed ahead of them. "In this direction. There is some threat to elf-kind in general and toto one of the Princes of the Woodland Realm." She tried, but could see no more.

The Wizard nodded. "Forgive me my impatience, my Lady. I have been too long among men."

  
She laughed then, and the look of joy upon her face increased her beauty. "Men have need of your counsel. They would do well to heed your words."

"Men do not heed the words of their own kind. My own words, they cannot always follow." He laughed then. "There are exceptions, of course!"

She nodded the smile still plain upon her face. "Yes, and the one of whom you speak is often that exception." 

Her husband smiled then at the unexpected pleasure of seeing the joy upon her face. "You do not often smile when you think of him, my love." Celeborn knew she could not think of Aragorn without thinking of the eventual loss of their dear granddaughter, Arwen.

Galadriel nodded. "Yet, he brings her such joy, and I do remember the first flush of new love." She glanced at her husband with a look she shared only with him. Love, respect, and something more...thousands of years of affection and common memoriesevident in her eye, but only for one such as he who knew how to read them.

He reached across to her from atop his own steed and the two clasped hands like the young lovers they remembered being. The elven touch, though light and chaste, held a sensitivity depth of communication, of connection, rare even among elves.

Celeborn and Galadriel remained so for some time, and Gandalf did not interrupt. It was only when the Lady Galadriel stiffened, inhaling sharply, that Gandalf and Celeborn drew to a halt beside her.

"My love, what is it?" Celeborn asked the question verbally, though he could have found out in other ways.

"There is a threat"

"Yes, so you said, to one of the Woodland Princes" Gandalf frowned as he spoke.

"Nay. There is another. I sense an evil traveling as we do, but much closer to its prey."

"Prey? Do you not know either predator or prey?" Gandalf glanced to Celeborn, but the Lord only shook his head, not knowing things of which his wife had not spoken.

"Only that the predatornay, _predators_, they will reach their quarry before we find our friendsfor we are seeking the same weary travelers." Galadriel's eyes had grown distant, her voice soft, as she spoke of these things she saw with sight other than that of her elven eyes. 

Celeborn reached to her again, and the Lady of the Golden Wood offered him the smallest of smiles that he would know she was well.

"If what you say is so, we should waste no time!" With those words, Gandalf urged his horse into a gallop, the Lord and Lady of the Wood and their retinue close at his heels.

**

Together the Two worked as one–a common mind, and a common goal Their Master's pleasure was their only thought. They had long ago turned from the path they had been sent to walk. They had long ago abandoned the higher purpose for which they had been made. Their fall into Shadow had been both quick and unexpected, but, as is often the case with such things, it had become a stronger call than they could ignore. They had no need of armies or minions, for theirs was the power of the Istari.

  
Those who sent them only suspected the betrayal, for no proof could be found when no trail of the Two could be followed. The Ithryn Luin they were calledthe Blue Wizards. They had been sent well before Gandalf the Grey had set foot in Middle-earth. They had spread Sauron's will as far East and South as they were able setting up cults and superstitions and establishing the blackest of arts, the deadliest of rituals, the most shocking of the orders of Morgoth's Worshippers.

Working always in tandem, the Ithyn Luin had devised a plan that could not fail.

The First had prepared the spell. His strength was in the drawing of power and the channeling of the Evil Will of Sauron's desires. His words would call forth a doom upon the man by cutting off all supportby forcing him to stand alone. His wicked ritual would deprive the would-be savior of Man of the strength of his kin. The First did not doubt his spell would work, for, though he had not always pleased his Master, he had never wrought a spell that had failed.

  
The Second had prepared the means of execution. His strength was as a bringer of death and a herald of doom. The manipulation of poisons and herblore and the infliction of pain and doubt were his domain. This would not be subtle as some of his past endeavors. No. This called for a heavy hand. This called for a decisive victory. The Man Who Would Be King would die a death the description of which would set the soul of the fiercest warrior to quake in horror and fear. 

All preparations made, the Blue Wizards had but to wait for the coming of their prey.

**

The Company had traveled without incident for some time when they finally paused to rest. Their path to Lothlorien was clear to them, but their progress seemed slow. Always, it seemed, their journey was delayed. Orc attacks, obstacles in the road, dried river beds forcing a search for fresh water, these and other incidents had added many days to an already overlong journey.

  
Elladan rode ahead of the others scouting to be sure of their path. Beside him rode Aglarelen, who had insisted on coming along. In truth, only Elrond, Estel, and Glorfindel had paused in the journey. While Elladan and Aglarelen scouted their path, Elrohir and Legolas had slipped off to hunt for their dinner.

The Crown Prince of Mirkwood seemed unsettled, distant. Elladan knew his thoughts centered on his brother, and, in truth, Elladan couldn't draw his own thoughts from Legolas' condition for any length of time, either.

As they traveled closer to Lothlorien, however, he allowed himself some hope, and it was this he tried to share with Aglarelen. Turning to the Crown Prince, he cleared his throat. "They will know what to do."

Aglarelen glanced in Elladan's direction before turning his gaze again to the road before him. "They may not."

Elladan shook his head. "They"

Aglarelen cut him off. "Neither your father, nor mine, had ever heard of such a malady."

"It may not be a malady. If it is a spell, perhaps The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood"

"That is conjecture only." He drew up short, stopping his horse. "Lord Elrond had no answers and, rather than dash our hopes, clung to this plan to ask the Lady Galadriel." He urged his horse forward, not looking to see if Elladan followed.

But Elladan did follow. Moving his horse to a canter next to Aglarelen's, he remained silent for a moment before allowing himself to voice his thoughts. "Ah! Now I see where Legolas gets both his inflexibility and his melancholia."

Aglarelen glared at Elladan. "Neither I, nor my brother, are any of those things!" 

"Aglarelen, if you have no hope for his recovery, do you not think Legolas will sense this?" Elladan sighed. "Consider this, my friend." He turned his attention back to his scouting leaving Aglarelen to stare after him pondering his words.

**

Legolas crept silently, keeping pace with Elrohir. His friend turned to him then, making a series of complicated hand gestures, to which Legolas replied in kind. Each nodded to his companion before they parted company, moving silently in opposite directions and skirting a small clearing.

Legolas peered through the thick leaves and ground cover to catch sight of their quarry. A buck, just into adulthood, stood sipping serenely from a shallow stream. With practiced ease, he drew an arrow from his quiver and aimed at the animal. Long years of experience forced him to hold the position for another few moments, and, at the precise moment the buck turned its head slightly in his direction, Legolas loosed his arrow.

  
The arrow flew straight and true, piercing the animal's eye and entering its brain. It was dead instantly.

Legolas thanked the Valar for many things then. For allowing him to take the buck's life to feed his companions, for granting the bounty of Middle-earth in the first place, and for gracing him with the skills to take the animal's life without causing it to suffer needlessly.

He stepped from his cover and moved to the animal's side meeting Elrohir, who's concealment had been closer.

"Impressive shot, my friend." The elf spoke warmly, as though the words were expected, but Legolas could tell that he was indeed impressed.

"You could have done it just as easily, mellonin." Legolas laughed.

"Not from that distance. Your skills exceed mine with bow and arrow, Legolas." Elrohir had always preferred sword to bow. He knelt by the animal, asking with a gesture if Legolas minded if he began the butchering here. With a wave of his hand, Legolas granted permission, and drew a knife of his own to assist.

They worked in silence for a short time, the easy camaraderie of long years of association making it easy for the two to work as one.

Elrohir watched Legolas as he easily separated meat from bone and hide setting aside what would need to be tanned if possible and what could be eaten. 

Legolas eventually became aware of his friend's attention. He met the other's eyes. "What?"

"You seem more yourself, lately." He hesitated before continuing. "You seem comfortable"

Legolas blinked in surprise. In truth, he felt more himself. Though the absence of the Song, and the need for sleep and food on a scale he could never have imagined, made him sometimes painfully aware of the differences, he was finally adapting to hiscondition.

He smiled faintly. "I suppose I am. I suppose it was necessary." He shrugged and went back to his work.

"It will not be necessary for long, mellonin." Elrohir's vehemence surprised Legolas. It was usually Estel who spoke so.

Legolas laughed then, noting how Elrohir forced himself not to be startled at the very human sound. "We do not need to speak of it, Elrohir. We have a long journey ahead of us. We can worry over the reason for it once we have reached Lothlorien."

Elrohir nodded allowing a smile upon his face as the two fell back into the easy rhythm of their work.

**

Glorfindel watched from a short distance as Elrond again tended Estel's wounds changing bandages and reapplying athelas and other herbs where needed. The number of injuries the human had managed to amass in his short lifespan was astonishing to the elf. Beatings, broken bones, bites from all sorts of animals, wounds from arrows, knives, and swordseach seemed worse than the last, and, though Estel recovered from them all, Glorfindel knew something the depth of which he was sure the human did not fathom. Lord Elrond felt each one as though it pierced his own fleshnay, for that would be easier to bear for the Lord. He felt each as though it pierced his heart.

Elrond was easily the most skilled healer he had ever met, but Glorfindel could see that it took a toll on his friend to have to tend to his human son. The elf lord would do anything to spare his son the pain he so routinely suffered, and, as he had told Glorfindel, he had no wish to watch his son die.

Glorfindel knew Elrond worried for his other sons, perhaps more than he should, but the twins had been chasing danger since their mother's capture by orcs and eventual departure for Valinor. They practically courted danger, and would likely do so as long as they remained in Middle-earth, for they would stand by their human brother in his need even should he face Morgoth himself.

Glorfindel heard the easy banter between father and son as he drew near. Estel was again insisting that he was well, while Elrond was again insisting that Estel was no judge of his own health.

"I will tell you when you are well, my son. You have pushed too far already today." Elrond's voice was insistent and firm. There would be no arguing, cajoling, or persuading this time.

Not to say that Estel wouldn't try. "But ada"

"Estel, pleasedo not"

Aragorn shut his mouth, unaccustomed to the tone of weariness and defeat in his father's voice. Unable to frame a reply, he simply studied his father.

Elrond must have realized how he had sounded, for even as Glorfindel watched, the elf lord shook off his worried and smiled comfortingly at his son. "Rest, Estel. You will heal well if you only give yourself the time you need."  


Aragorn nodded and allowed his father to change his last bandages unchallenged.

When Elrond was finished, Glorfindel caught his eye. Rising, Elrond moved to his friend's side, aware that, though he could not hear them, Estel watched them.

"What is it, my friend?" Elrond asked knowing full well what Glorfindel would say.

"You admonish your sonyour sonseven the sons of othersto take care of themselves and take their rest, yet when was the last time you allowed yourself to take any rest yourself?" Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at Elrond in silent imitation of the elf lord's most intimidating expression.

"I am well, _mellonin_." Elrond spoke with a weariness in his voice that Glorfindel had heard there on the rarest of occasions.

"You are _not_ well, _mellonin_." Glorfindel replied in the same tone of voice.

"Is this some trick of yours to stand in imitation of me? If so, I fail to see what you hope to accomplish." Elrond crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"My friend, you do yourself a misdeed by not taking your own advice. Your son heals, yet you sit up most of each night and watch him." Glorfindel smiled at his friend's surprise. "Yes, I have seen you. You must know that you will be neededrested and strongto care for Estel and to care for any others who are injured along the waybut mostly, to assist the Lady Galadriel in any attempt to heal Prince Legolas!"

Elrond sighed, and Glorfindel allowed him a moment to consider what he'd said, but when Elrond opened his mouth to speak, Glorfindel cut off the words with a wave of his hand. "Starting now, my friend." He grasped Elrond's shoulders and steered him towards his own bedroll. "Sleep. I will wake you when Legolas and Elrohir have made your supper."

Elrond laughed, but did not protest. He glanced at Estel who had taken it all in. Elrond glared at his son, but there was a glint of amusement in his voice. "You saw none of this, my son. You are dreaming."

Estel grinned. "I must be, ada, but it is a dream I think I should share with my brothers."

"Go right ahead. Be sure to tell them all about it over your _cup of tea_ in the morning." Elrond's amusement grew as Estel's eyes widened in surprise.

"You would not!"

Elrond smiled as he settled down to sleep, but he did not answer.

Estel stared at his father for several minutes, then looked to Glorfindel. "He would not!"

Glorfindel laughed. "Wouldn't he?"

Estel just continued to stare at his sleeping father.

**

The evening was clear; thousands of stars appearing above them, and Aglarelen took comfort at the sight of them. Their dinner over, the group had soon drifted to sleep. Glorfindel had taken the evening's watch, insisting that he had slept enough recently, and would be fine to doze in the morning during their journey.

Their journey. Aglarelen knew not why he felt this way, but the journey seemed to him to be taking longer than it should. He wanted nothing more than to find a cure for his brother and return home. Somehow, they seemed to travel more slowly even as they tried to increase their speed. Perhaps this was all in his mind. His own anxieties over his youngest brother's condition could be lengthening the hours, masking his perceptions so that it seemed to take more time to cover short distances. 

His uncertainty pulled at his attention until it nearly consumed him. He glanced around their campsite looking for comfort in the familiar actions of his comrades. 

Elrond and Glorfindel seemed deep in conversation, but he could hear a faint trace of laughter and knew they traded tales and memories of their younger days. 

Elladan and Elrohir sat silently side by side as they sharpened their swords, their movements almost identical.

Aragorn and Legolas sat by the fire. Aglarelen gasped at the sight of Legolas. A small, mischievous smile graced his brother's face and the glow of the fire made him seem soit almost broke his heart. 

His gaze remained on Legolas for some time, before he forced his attention away. He did not want to cause his brother any distress by reminding him of what he'd lostas if Legolas could forget! As Aglarelen settled down to sleep, something caught his attention. Turning his head, he scanned the area, but could find nothing amissthere through the treesa brief flash of blue

To be continued 

Responses to reviews:

Xsilicax: Thanks for your review. Was this too long between updates? (LOL)

Chloe Amethyst: I always love reading your insights! Yes, that was why I included the bit with Legolas' flashback. I was trying to illustrate Legolas' affinity for all life. I'm thrilled that it came across.

Orlando is hot: Nice name! (LOL!) Thanks so much! I'm overjoyed that you're liking this.

Gwyn: Thanks! I was afraid of the story being too angst ridden, so I purposely tried to work in a few lighter moments. I think it parallels the Elvish existence anywayeverything being bittersweet and all of that. I don't know myself if Tolkien intended to imply that Sauron sent anyone after Aragorn, or if I simply chose to infer it. Tolkien was known to change his mind on things even after they'd been published, after all, but that one line in the book always captivated me, and plot bunnies can come from the darnedest places. And, yeah, you caught me. This isn't an AU story. I'll say no more!

Leggylover03: Not to worry more angst and pain is on the way.

Padfoot4ever: Thanks! I'll try to be quicker.

Andmetwen: Thanks! I hope you like this one, too.

Sirithiliel: Thanks! I appreciate a review of any length, and I'm glad you took the time to let me know you liked the story even when you were so busy! I hope you like the rest!

  
Barbara Kennedy: Thanks! I'm glad the flashbacks worked! I was so worried about that!

Lady Sandry: How's this? Now I've updated this and the POTC fic all in a matter of days. I'll get right back to the POTC now!


	9. part 9

See part one for disclaimer.

Encroaching Darkness Part 9

By Ecri

Aglarelen continued to stare into the nearby trees, hoping for another glimpse of blue, so that he could identify whatever lingered nearby. He had no wish to raise an alarm prematurely, but something was wrong. Just as he was about to call to Elladan, he heard a faint whisper on the wind. It was a mesmerizing sound, and drew all his attention, so that he could not think of Elladan at all, let alone recall that he wished to speak to the elf.

The whisper grew by turns faint then louder, but never was it loud enough for his elven ears to string together more than a word or two. The language seemed elvish, but old, archaic, and Aglarelen distinctly heard words of power and magic among the few that he could discern.

A heaviness came over him as he listened. His limbs seemed as lead, and his thoughts seemed unfocused. Some piece of him knew there was danger, but it was a vague sense of it, a muted alarm in the corner of his mind, the corner of his heart. Even had he been able to form coherent thought, he could not have called out to his friends, his brother. 

The First had seen to that.

**

Of the Ithryn Luin, The First knew well that his brother could not move on with the plan until he had succeeded. The groundwork for their success was in his hands. He would not fail The Second, nor would he fail Sauron. The spell was a wicked one indeed, and the casting of it cost him much. The Magic of the Istari, even fallen Istari like himself, his brother, and Saruman, was not limitless. Drawing as much as he had had required talismans, ritual, incantation, and much of his personal knowledge. Spent, he watched only briefly from the shadow of the trees as one by one, the Firstborn fell to his will.

This was surely his proudest moment. He sealed the fate of Middle-earth and handed it to Sauron.

This Crownless King would be unable to fulfill whatever destiny he thought was his. He would be dead soonin as hideous a manner as the Second could devise.

The First moved carefully through the trees to report back to his brother that his half of this attack could now begin. Sauron would be pleased.

**

Elrond felt a fog fill his mind and weigh down his limbs. A great fear clouded his heart, an alarm he could not raise, a sense of danger to which he could not give voice. Struggling to rise, he managed only to prop himself up on elbows that quivered with the strain. He saw only vague movement from his sons, though they should have been alert and guarding the camp. He saw not a twitch from Glorfindel or Aglarelen. 

Gathering his resolve and what strength remained in his control, Elrond Peredhil, forced his eyes toward his youngest son, worry bursting in his heart that Aragorn was again in danger. To his great relief, Aragorn sat by the fire speaking in soft tones to Legolas. The pair, engrossed in whatever tale they were sharing, seemed oblivious to the distress of the elves in their company. 

Elrond frowned as his strength waned. Looking again to his twins, he watched as their struggles to move or speak dwindled away to nothing. At one point, he'd locked eyes with Elladan, and the fear in his eldest's eyes that he knew was mirrored in his own. Something was affecting only the elves. Elrond imagined he was only still able to move as he was because of the fraction of human blood that flowed through his veins. Undoubtedly this was also why his own sons' struggled even more than he did. Their human blood was diluted even further than his own was.

Even as the thoughts circled around in his mind, he felt a strange lethargy grow. The sense of danger began to leave him vaguely wondering what concerned him. Surely there was no trouble here.

His shaking limbs finally refused to support him, and with one final tremor, he fell to the ground with a thud.

As he slipped from consciousness, he felt only a numbness spread through him.

**

Aragorn laughed with Legolas, thrilled his friend seemed morewell, not himself, exactly, but more able to deal with this malady that afflicted him. If malady it was. Sharing reminiscences, the pair had remained awake much longer than they'd intended. Settling down now to sleep, Aragorn glanced once around their camp. 

All seemed asleep. It took him a precious few moments to realize his brothers were asleep as well, and not guarding their perimeter. Sitting up more quickly than his injuries would have dictated, the Ranger's sudden movements startled Legolas.

"What is it, Estel?" Legolas asked, concern written across his face.

"Elladan and Elrohir. They are asleep!"

Legolas shook his head. "That cannot be." He turned to look, and saw his friend was right. Turning to back to Aragorn, the Prince bit off his concern over the twins at the faraway look in his friend's eyes. "Mellonin, what is it?"

Aragorn did not reply. The Ranger heard a voice on the wind. Words he could not quite make out urging him to come forwardto leave the relative safety of the camp and follow the voice tohis destiny. Rising, he did as the voice suggested. Leaving behind his sword, Aragorn moved through the campsite in the direction of the voice knowing only that the promises it made would be fulfilled soon.

**

Legolas watched his friend in concern and called to him as he stood and began to leave the camp. "Estel! Where do you go?" Worried for his friend, Legolas reached out a hand and grabbed firmly onto Aragorn's arm. 

The Ranger shook him off easily.

Legolas ran around his friend to block his path and find out what was happening. "My friend, where do you go? You cannot wander off alone!" 

Calling to him did not seem to help, so Legolas looked back towards the others. All were asleep and completely immobile. A closer look chilled the Prince's bones. "Ai! Elbereth! They sleep with their eyes closed!" 

He moved to Aglarelen's side and tried to rouse him, but his brother did not nor blink. One by one, he checked with each of the others, Lord Elrond seemed on the verge of waking. His struggles minor and muted, but visible nonetheless. 

Even as he watched the Elven Lord, however, the elf's breathing became more and more shallow. Peering intently at Elrond's face, Legolas searched for some sign, some clue that this was something he alone could remedy.

  
Legolas was no healer, however, and he knew this sleep was much, much more than it appeared. He glanced uneasily at his brother, and moved to his side. Aglarelen's breathing had all but stopped, and his face was a sickly pale. Frustration flooded him. Should he search out some treatment for this malady, or should he follow Aragorn, who was most assuredly not himself.

Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohirnone were well, but there would be no way for him to help them in time to chase after Aragorn, so the prince did the only thing he could.

Strapping on his weapons, he began to follow Aragorn, not forgetting to take Aragorn's scabbard and sword. If he did not want it now, Legolas was sure the human would want it later.

**

Galadriel glanced to the Wizard on her right, and her husband on her left. "We must hurry." Her whisper still carried all the authority she had ever wielded, and Celeborn turned to her.

"What do you see?"

"I wish I could say more, but I know only that the danger is too great. There is a threat we have not considered. More than that, I cannot tell." Galadriel raised sorrow filled eyes to her husband. Her foresight was not always what some who possessed no such ability would think. Vague images hard to interpret were what she sometimes got, but always the feeling that accompanied such visions was right. The feelings flooding her now were ones of danger and foreboding.

One thing she saw clearly. "It is the Elessar and the Greenleaf. We must hurry." 

Gandalf had listened to the exchange between husband and wife without comment, but now his startled voice interrupted whatever reply Lord Celeborn might have given his wife. "Then you do see something specific. What danger lies before the Hope of Men and the youngest Prince of Mirkwood?"

Galadriel shook her golden head sorrowfully. "I see no more than I have already told you, Mithrandir. The future ripples and hides itself. Perhaps if I had my mirror to consult" She let the thought trail knowing it useless to wish for things one could not have.

Without further word, Gandalf and Celeborn spurred their horses onward.

**

The First and the Second worked in concert to prepare the chamber. This would be their greatest victory and would surely earn them a place of power in Sauron's rule.

Confident that their careful planning would lead to success, the Two anticipated the arrival of the human. 

They knew there would be no interference from the man's traveling companions. He traveled with elves, and the First had easily taken care of them. His spells were most potent, and would have the desired effect. Once the man awoke from the stupor they had placed him under, he would know that he was alone. He would understand that there was naught that he could do to stand against the greatness of Sauron.

The Second sat near a stone altar preparing a spell. This would be his crowning achievement. This would be the beginning of the end for Middle-earth. He could already visualize the darkness that would come and it filled him with anticipation.

**

Legolas trailed his friend through the trees daring not to call out to him. Aragorn was not even attempting stealthy movement. He walked as though strolling across the grounds of Imladris without a care in the world. Puzzled by this behavior as greatly as by the sight of his brother and the others sleeping with closed eyes, Legolas wished he could remove thoughts of danger and fears of death from his own mind.

As he followed, he wondered where his friend was going, and why Aragorn had not responded to his calls. That Elladan and Elrohir slept while on watch worried him as well. Under other conditions he would not have dreamt of leaving them alone and vulnerable, but the alternative was to leave Aragorn alone and vulnerable. That he could not do.

He saw Aragorn ahead of him. The man seemed oblivious to his own surroundings, and appeared to follow some guide Legolas could not sense. Aragorn's pace did not alter. His gaze did not shift but instead he stared straight ahead. Taking in neither the surrounding wood in looking for danger, nor being careful not to be seen, the man did not act like the experienced woodsman he was.

Approaching a clearing, Legolas watched Aragorn step into a cave and disappear into the darkness beyond. "It would be a cave." Legolas whispered to himself. He should have guessed. Steeling himself against the darkness, the sense of a small space getting smaller, Legolas crept toward the cave entrance.

The depth of the blackness before him was a surprise, for he had never before perceived a cave in the way that humans did. There was less light than he would have expected, and the lack of his own elven glow did naught but remind him of his condition.

Putting that aside, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark, which improved his vision only slightly. Then he followed his friend more by sound than sight.

Just when he was certain he had lost Aragorn, and indeed would be lost himself, he saw a faint glow up ahead, and a dark figure, which he took to be Aragorn, slipped around a bend.

Following the light, Legolas used every skill his friend had tried to teach him of the ways of men when they required stealthy movements. It took a great deal of concentration to ignore the centuries of experience that urged him to move in a certain way and follow his friend's advice, but it worked.

Nearing the bend where he had last seen Aragorn, Legolas dropped to his knees and peered cautiously around. He beheld a cavern with high ceilings. Torches were strategically placed about the rock walls and in the center of the room stood two Wizards. Istari? Legolas thought. How could this be?

The Blue Wizards, for it was blue robes they wore, cackled in delight at the sight of Aragorn. One whispered to the other, and Legolas cursed his human hearing that he could not hear.

One Wizard approached Aragorn now and ran a hand down the human's cheek. Legolas did not know how his friend stood still under such a malevolent touch, for elf or no, he felt the evil intent in the languid movement.

The second wizard followed the first, and, in a sudden movement, caught Aragorn's left arm and secured it with a rope. The binding was secured to the far wall. Legolas winced, seeing how tightly it was fastened. The same was then done to his friend's right arm, and Legolas, wishing he could forestall this, drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and prepared to fire. 

He stayed his hand when he heard the first wizard begin to chant. A strange sensation came over him, and he had to shake his head to clear it. Focusing on the task at hand, Legolas tried not to listen to the wizard. It was at the precise moment that the second wizard's voice joined the first that Legolas let fly his arrow.

Legolas had been surprised when his skills with his bow had not deteriorated at the loss of his elvishness. Now, he spared no thought to it, and nocked another arrow, letting it fly with the same precision. Both hit their targets, and Legolas scrambled forward hoping to free his friend before the Wizards could react. 

A high pitched screech the likes of which the youngest Prince of Mirkwood had never heard before pierced the air. For the first time since becoming human, he was glad he didn't have his elven hearing.

He wasted no time worrying about the noise. His priority here was to free Aragorn. He reached his friend's side, noting Aragorn's dazed look. "Strider!" Taking his knife, Legolas cut Aragorn free of the ropes. The Ranger's face remained blank, and his attention seemed focused elsewhere.

"Strider! Mellonin, we must run!" 

Legolas glanced towards the Wizards, who had recovered from their surprise at the attack. They seemed puzzled over something, but angered also. One of them raised his staff and pointed it towards Aragorn. The other pointed his at Legolas. Then, the two began to chant.

  
Deciding it was pointless to give them such an easy target, Legolas tightened his hold on Aragorn's arm and headed towards the shadows. He knew he had to put distance between them and these Blue Wizards.

**

Aragorn walked as though in a dream. Nothing seemed quite real. His mind was crowded with thoughts and voices. Images flashed before his eyes, by turns crystal clear or hazy and distant. He thought he heard a voice, a familiar voice calling to him, but he wasn't sure if it was just another voice in his head or someone real. Real? He wondered at the distinction his tired brain tried to make. He felt as he sometimes did after an injury when his father gave him some concoction to ease his pain and put him to sleep. He felt unable to control thought or action. It should have unnerved him, but it didn't.

A haze of blue wavered in front of him. He felt a strange sensation on his cheek as though a single strand of spider web touched him there in a faint breeze. It was disconcerting, and he felt some evil there, but he did not even think of reacting to it. Standing still and staring at the blue haze before him, he felt something tighten painfully around his wrists. 

The blue haze seemed to waver slightly, and he heard a voice, and this one was both in his head and outside it. The sound seemed to increase slightly and as suddenly was replaced by an awful wailing, screeching sound.

He heard again that familiar voice calling to him, and moments later, the pain around his wrists eased. 

Then he felt himself moving. Dragged by a powerful grip on his arm, he found himself moving towards a shadow. It turned into something much more solid, and he realized he was crouching behind rocks with

"Strider! It is me, Legolas! Mellonin, I need you here. We cannot continue this way." 

The voice stopped, and he heard the familiar sound of arrow leaving bow.

"We face an enemy I have never seen before. Mellonin! Wherever their words have sent you, you must"

He never heard what he must do, for the voice was cut off by a cry of pain.

To Be Continued

Responses:

Strider's Girl: If you thought that was evil, I shudder to think what you must think of this chapter!

Leggylover03: I'm glad you liked it. More pain and angst to come.

Chloe Amethyst: Thanks! I hope you hadn't given up hope. I am sorry this chapter was so long in coming. I'm thrilled that you like the story and that the Blue Wizards come across as chilling. There's more of them to come!

WhiteWolf1: You're right. You don't often get to see Elrond so vulnerable. That was one of the reasons I wrote that chapter. I really feel for him. It has to be so hard to lose Arwen that way, and, technically, he lost a son, too, in Aragorn. Talk about the potential for angst! Sorry this took so long. I'll try to stay focused. 

Xsilicax: Thanks! Yeah, Elrond needs a friend. You're right that nothing is going to be easy to heal from this point!

Randomramblings: Thanks! I hope it's still interesting! BTW, Thanks for the nudge to get me to update. You really kicked me into high gear.

Andmetwen: Thanks! Sorry about the tea thing. That's taken from what I guess is actually fanon. It's based on the idea that Elrond often gives his patients teas that will put them to sleep and force them to rest. After all, can you see Aragorn staying where he's told to stay once he begins to feel better? Neither can I! So presume they're talking about some sort of concoction that will knock them out. 

Sirithiliel: Thanks for the review. I hope you like this chapter.

Jazi: Did this work for you?

  
Emiri-Chan: Another cliffie! Hope that's okay! I'll try to update quicker from now on. I just have several unfinished fics that I'm juggling at the moment.

Catherinexxix: Thanks! Wow! You're making me blush! I'm glad you like the flashbacks. Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. I hope you like it!


	10. part 10

See part one for disclaimer.

Author's Note: This might have been posted a week sooner, but my ISP has given me distinct headaches lately, which, in a nutshell, caused the loss of a lot of my data. Too bad I never learned to curse in dwarvish! Anyway, on with the story. Please read and review.

Encroaching Darkness Part 10

By Ecri

  
The First stared in disbelief at the arrow that pierced his hand. It was of elvish design, of that he was certain. A glance at his brother revealed that The Second had also been pierced though his injury appeared much more serious. The elven arrow had struck his chest and The First could see the arrow's pointed tip protruding from his brother's back just above the left shoulder blade.

Angered and astonished by the attack—for surely his spell had worked its evil upon the elves who camped nearby—The First began to chant his spell again, this time funneling his power through his staff and aiming it at the elf. He could see the blonde creature freeing the human from his bonds, though its back was to him.

The First had spent much of himself on the previous spell. That one elf had managed to break the bonds of the ancient incantation was unthinkable, but the evidence of his eyes could not be denied. The First reached deep inside himself and drew what power he still possessed though little was left. Pointing his staff at the elf, he released it in a powerful blow and watched in satisfaction as the Firstborn fell.

**

Legolas' attempts to get his friend to leave went unheeded, and—still pleading with Aragorn to fight against the sorcery the Ithyn Luin had used—the prince turned towards the wizards to judge the proximity of the threat. It was at that precise moment that some foul spell worked the will of its master sending a bolt of blue lightning to engulf the prince even as another engulfed Aragorn.

Legolas felt the blow in a way he'd felt no other pain in his life. Crying out in surprise, he fell silent only when his breath was robbed by another strike. Glancing at Aragorn, he saw the man's form pulsing in time with the blue light from the other Istar's staff, which still engulfed him. 

When the pain subsided, Legolas drew in a long painful breath and drew himself to his feet. His attention was on Aragorn. He could spare little thought for anything else.

  
Aragorn seemed encased in a pulsing blue glow, and, though Legolas could hear no cries from his friend, the man writhed in agony and his mouth was open in a silent scream. _Either he makes no sound or the blue glow cuts me off from his cries, _Legolas thought. _Why,_ he wondered, _have I not been similarly encased? Why am I able to stand now?_

He noted the slight tremors that shook his frame even as they subsided. He felt no lasting ill effects from the attack, which surprised him to no end, but there was no time for surprise. He drew another arrow and aimed at the wizard whose staff still pointed at Estel. Letting it fly, he drew another before the bow string had stopped quivering from the release and followed it with yet another, his aim adjusting to his target's moves almost anticipating them before they occurred. Accurate to the last, Legolas struck the wizard in arm, chest, and stomach before he broke his attack. The Wizard's staff fell from his hand even as he whirled to face his attacker.

Legolas moved to the stone wall, seeking cover in the shadows and noticed for the first time that, though he was uncomfortable in the cave, it was not nearly the overwhelming strain that usually plagued him in small dark places. Was this another effect of his strange malady? 

He shook his head as though to dislodge the thought. He was still not at home within the stone and rock walls. The difference was only that this time there was no sudden sundering from Iluvatar's Song as there usually was when he entered such a deep dark place. He could not be torn from something he no longer felt.

A small strange sound reached his ears and Legolas turned to see one of the Wizards facing him with a look of barely controlled rage upon his face.

Ducking behind a boulder as the Wizard aimed his reclaimed staff in his direction, Legolas realized too late that his human reflexes would not save him as his elven ones might have done as the blow struck his shoulder sending him down to the ground.

**

It was a fair day, golden in its light and life, but, belying such sights, the Lady of the Wood felt only discord and trepidation. Urging her horse to greater speeds and trusting her companions to keep up, Galadriel rode hard and fast towards a doom she sensed would end the Hope of Men, and thus the Hope of Middle-earth.

She had seen visions that made little sense even to one such as she, accustomed to interpreting the dreams of foresight and the images of her mirror. Knowing only that danger and darkness grew and sought to give Doom a foothold upon Arda, Galdriel spared no words to those who rode with her. Frustrating as they might have found it, Gandalf and Celeborn did her the courtesy of following her lead and not pressing her for information she did not possess.

It was only when she pulled up short and they rode past her before bringing their own steeds around and returning to her side that she shared what little she could.

"There is a danger here we have not yet faced. The young ones battle alone." A shiver raced down her spine as her weary mind interpreted her visions. "There is naught we can do except to be there when the battle has ceasedto bury the dead."

Gandalf's brow creased at her words. "My Lady, do you know at least what threat this is? Of which young ones is it you speak?"

Galadriel shook her head and turned to face Gandalf though her eyes remained focused on something only she could see.

"That I cannot tell. The battle is fierce, but those engaged in it are shielded from my eyes. Perhaps it is by some spell" Her voice trailed off and she again urged her horse forward never seeing the fear in the eyes of her husband as he stared after her for a moment before following.

**

The Second saw his brother fall. He had used all his reserve power in trying to contain this last elf, and the cost had been great. The Second watched him crumble to the ground in a flutter of blue robes even as he realized the elfspell would not work. Why? He cursed in several languages, not the least of which was the Black Speech. Noticing the sound of the words had no impact on the fair golden creature who even now withstood his brother's attack, he came to a sudden realization. The creature was no elf.

That he appeared elvish at first glance was quite irrelevant. The creature's long golden hair and manner of dress, even his weapons, made him appear to be of the Woodland Realm. That the Black Speech caused no pain, however, and not an instant of hesitationthese things could only mean it was a second human before him and not an elf at all.

  
A cold grin passed over his face as he claimed his staff and held it as firmly as he could in an unsteady grip. Summoning his power, which was still formidable he aimed first at the first human. The original target must be held at all costs.

The words he used and the evil he conjured held the man in place. Dark images would haunt the man, robbing him of his will to do anything without the Istar's suggestion. 

The Blue Wizard then struck the human-elf with energy from his staff reveling in the sight of the odd creature's fall. It was only when he sensed no movement from it that he turned back to his target. The man was wanted by Sauron himself and the Blue Wizard had no intention of failing. He had seen what awaited those who failed in the Dark Lord's bidding.

Mumbling again in the Black Speech, chanting in an increasingly quick cadence, The Second moved ever closer to the human, enjoying its pain and the dark fears his spell conjured within the man's mind. 

It was as his mind was solely occupied by the torment he caused that he heard his fallen brother cry a word of warning. Too late he turned towards the danger, but had not even enough time to understand the threat before a blur of movement was upon him.

The blur became the human-elf and before the Wizard could utter a word against the attack, his staff clattered to the ground. Shock and surprise combined with the drain on power the Wizard had already suffered kept his options limited. He fought back weakly, batting away the surprisingly strong hands and rolling beneath the weight that pinned him to the ground.

The Istar sought a spell in his memory. He could not fail now, being so close to accomplishing his task! He would rise from this! He would save his brother and the Blue Wizards would return to their tasks of raising worshippers of Sauron in the lands most distant from these accursed elven realms!

His memory finally brought forth a spell that would command the creature, whatever it was, to do his bidding. Just as he opened his mouth to say the words, he felt the large elvish knife he had been avoiding as it plunged into his throat. A downward slash opened the wound, and, even as his blood seeped into the ground, the Wizard felt his life slip away. His last conscious thought was of his failure.

**

Legolas stared down at the Istar. Blood had spurted up from the wound painting his own face, hair, and clothes with macabre splashes of color. The blood did not stop, though the life it was meant to sustain had already fled this world. Legolas pushed himself away from the limp form, and would have wiped uselessly at the growing stains upon his hands, face, and clothes had not his thoughts turned immediately towards Aragorn.

He heard a distinct and familiar groan and raced to his friend's side. "Estel!" He searched Aragorn's face for some sign that he would wake. "Estel! Wake, my friend!"

When Aragorn did not wake, Legolas sighed in frustration. He glanced back at the dead Wizard. His stomach churned over what he had done, not only because the death had been sobut also because he had killed a Maia. Such a thing had to be a bad omen. 

Turning to where he knew the other Wizard had fallen he was surprised to find it gone. Panic raced through him at the thought that this battle might not yet be over.

  
**

The camp had not been disturbed by any creature since his strange slumber, Elrond was sure, even though he knew not how he could be. He had felt his awareness ebb and flow for he knew not how long. At times, he'd been sure he was about to break free of the spell—for such even his bewildered mind was convinced held him in place—only to find himself plummeting inexorably down into darkness. 

It was the heaviness of his limbs and the torpidity of his mind the elf lord found most frustrating. That he was aware of a danger, yet at times could not fathom what about danger' would require his immediate attention, only made his moments of near-lucidity that much less comprehensible to him.

Estelsomehow he was sure his youngest son was in danger. Somehow he was certain that the young human was no longer nearby. This likely meant that Legolas was no longer nearby. The two faced some enemy alone, injured, and unable to count on help from any elf with whom they traveled.

His thoughts were a jumble as racing images of Legolas and Aragorn injured and dying flashed through his mind though he could not determine if they were foresight, memory, or dream.

His tenuous hold on clear thought grew stronger for a moment, and Elrond found he was looking up at the night sky. His eyes were locked on the sight of Eärendil, and he took comfort from it. _Ada_, his mind whispered when his lips would not respond to his _commands, Ada, I have need of your strength. Aragornhe is haunted by the enemy. He is_ "in danger." 

That he had spoken the last words aloud surprised him, but not more than the sudden dissipation of the clouds that had threatened moments before to block the light of Eärendil. The star pulsed even as Elrond watched, and whether from the sight of it, the hope it gave to his heart, or from some physical property or spiritual manifestation he had yet to fathom, Elrond felt strength flow through him again.

As his mind cleared, he glanced around the campsite taking in the still forms of Glorfindel and the younger elves. Panic struck him when his eyes confirmed his heart's worry over Aragorn's safety. His pulse racing, it was several interminable minutes before he felt strong enough to move, and even then it was but a slight twitch of his hands.

His recovery, slow to the perceptions of his anguish, was in reality much more rapid than his descent into this strange oblivion. In a matter of minutes, he was able to bring himself into a seated position. Minutes later, he climbed unsteadily to his feet, though he stretched one arm out for balance while the other clutched his pounding head.

He stumbled first to his sons, his mind telling him it was because their small smattering of human blood made them the most likely to be able to rise and help him find Aragorn, though his heart knew he approached his twins with a father's worry.

Elladan and Elrohir moved fitfully as though struggling with some unseen assailant. It brought to Elrond's mind the rare moments they had been stricken with nightmares, though Estel had been the one most often plagued by such things.

The twins' struggles were small, to be sure, but it gave the elf lord some hope that they could yet defeat this spell as he had. Placing one hand tenderly on the forehead of each of his sons, Elrond sought to assure himself that they would be well. 

Elrond stared down at his sons momentarily gripped by the desire to protect them, though he knew not what this spell might be doing to them. A father's heart warred within him. Should he stay with his twins, his first born children, or try to find Estel? Estel, his son by all but bloodhis own beloved brother's descendant was missing. Gone from their campsite, still troubled by injuries not yet healed, and facing some enemy with power enough to incapacitate elves.

His head throbbed and he wondered at the pain. Was it an aftereffect of the spell or something else entirely? Shaking off both the pain and the thoughts, his eyes were drawn again to Elladan and Elrohir. Their eyes were closed, and, as he watched, the youngest twin inhaled sharply as though seeing something in his dreams that startled him. Drawing closer to Elrohir, he strained his elvish senses past their limit hoping for some clue.

Elrohir turned but the movement was smallmore a twitch than a voluntary movementbut it wasn't until Elrond saw his son's hands that he realized Elrohir was having a much different experience than he had.

Elrohir's fists were clenched in fists so tightly that his limbs trembled with the effort. The skin, whitened by the elf's grip, showed a startling streak of blood where it seeped between his fingers as Elrohir's fingernails pierced his own palm. 

Elrond frowned, his brow furrowed in worry, as he glanced then to Elladan. His eldest son was similarly afflicted, and Elrond, though he tried, could not wake them with words or with his desperate touch.

The Elf Lord turned then towards Aglarelen. The Crown Prince of Mirkwood was still as stone as the Lord of Imladris approached him, but after a very few moments, he tossed violently. His mouth opened as though to scream, but no sound came forth to echo through the forest. Elrond grasped the Prince's shoulders and shook him, calling out as he did, but there was naught that he could do.

He studied the fair golden-haired elf and searched for some sign that his experience could be altogether different from his own and that of his sons. After a few minutes Elrond determined that Aglarelen was much more still than his sons for much longer, though when he was able to move, it was often a sudden, even a violent action. 

He moved then to Glorfindel's side. The healer in him gathered what information he could hoping for a way to save his family and friends, but Glorfindel's condition frustrated him. The elf was truly still as stone unmoving and unresponsive. His pulse was slow, and his breathing was slower. He did not move. No twitching. No violent motions. His eyes were closed as were the twins and the Prince.

  
Elrond sat heavily on the ground by the prone form of his long time friend. His head continued to throb and seemed to be getting worse. He would need to distract himself from the pain before he could hope to give aid to his companions.

His thoughts turned again to Estel. The human child—for child he was to the ancient elf lord who had breathed the air of Arda long before the man's ancestors had been conceived—had somehow become as important to Elrond as the children he and Celebrian had conceived. Thinking of him now facing alone that which might defeat him Elrond knew he could delay no longer. Decision made, he stood, moving slowly until his body became accustomed to the upright position. Then, he retrieved his weapons and started off in search the two friends.

**

Aragorn shied away from the sights and sounds that surged around him wishing only for a moment's peace. Sweat trickled painfully into one eye as he shook off the last vestiges of the nightmare he had been living. The images, sinister, ominous, and terrifying clung to him refusing to relinquish their hold even while his waking mind told him they were not real.

He had no clue how he had gotten here. He had no idea where he was, and his last memory, of sitting with Legolas by the campfire, seemed disconnected to this reality. He could make out only dark shapes and darker shapes in the absence of any real light, but he was grateful for that. At least he had not awakened in the pitch-black absence of all light.

He stopped his meandering thoughts. Was Legolas here? He seemed to recall hearing his friend calling his name, but nothing else. Was he wandering somewhere through this caliginous cavern? The very idea struck cold fear in Aragorn's heart, and he wondered if it was that icy terror that caused his eyes to lose focus. 

What little he could make out of his surroundings seemed to shimmer and shift randomly.

He heard a soft moan to his left and inhaled sharply in recognition. He tried to call out to his friend, but was unable to say anything. Moaning himself, he tried to force his head to move so that he might locate his formerly elven friend.

The soft clamor of shifting stones brought his attention to a dark shape that slowly approached him. He knew he should be afraid, but he was not. The shape seemed familiar yet not familiar at the same time. In a moment he realized it was Legolas. 

Wishing he could see the familiar soft glow of an elf merely so that he could see something, Aragorn tried to call out to his friend, though what sound he made was something less than coherent words.

Relief spread through the Ranger as Legolas reached his side and seemed to be able to see him enough to recognize him. 

"Easy, mellonin, do not move until I have examined you." Legolas' whisper was soothing in tone even though it sounded more human than elvish.

Aragorn remained still as Legolas hands probed his body searching for broken bones or bleeding wounds. When he found nothing surprising, the Prince awkwardly draped Aragorn's arm across his shoulders and helped him to stand. "Come. We must find a way out."

**

Legolas allowed relief to flood through him as he realized Aragorn, though injured, was conscious and aware. He had wondered if he would need to carry his friend from the cavernsa task complicated by his own injuries and the fact that he had somehow become turned around and was no longer sure he could find his way out.

The Wizard's blast had stuck him soundly on the shoulder, and, though he knew it had been meant to hit him full in the chest, it did not relieve the tingling sensation or the horrifying few moments when he had felt it trying to devour his soul.

The other Wizard's blast had felt similar, though worse. This one seemed less intense than that, but its touch was less sinister. Whatever it was, he'd felt both touch his fëa—two icy grasping hands reaching into his soul intending to possess all that Legolas had left and bend him to their will—and it was not a touch he would ever welcome again.

Why neither had incapacitated him he could not tell, but his chief worry was that the missing Wizard might return with forces, orc or otherwise, to keep them captive. He had to get Aragorn out of the caverns, find out what was wrong with the others, and get them to a safe haven.

Safe haven. The words conjured images of Imladris in his mind, for nowhere in Middle-earth had he ever felt safer and more at ease than in the Last Homely House. Mirkwood would always be home to him for its trees whispered to him and he held each one dear. As comforting as that was, the growing shadow was not without its effects, and it was in Imladris, with its clear, sweet air, clean flowing rivers, and overall sense of peace that Legolas' mind would conjure when he needed rest and recovery.

Even during their journey to Lothlorien, in his mind, Legolas could only envision images of Lord Elrond's refuge as he'd never been to the Golden Wood. 

The soft groans of his friend, all the sounds Aragorn had been able to make since he'd been released from that blue cocoon the Wizards had wrapped around him, told Legolas that Aragorn's injuries were not minor. True he'd felt only some minor bleeding and no broken bones, but what hurts the darkness hid from him he could not begin to guess. The purpose of the Wizards' curious blue sparks he could not begin to guess.

Moving gingerly through the caverns, Legolas tried not to cause any further distress or discomfort to his friend. His own breathing was becoming more and more labored, and the exhaustion he felt seemed to grow with every step.

Touching his head, Legolas was not surprised to find it still wet and tacky with dried and drying blood. His fall after the Wizard's last strike had rendered him unconscious for some time, and upon waking, he'd found his head bleeding severely. 

He'd had precious little time, and even less light to examine himself or Aragorn. He'd tried to take a torch from the cavern with him, but it had not truly been a torch. There'd been a depression in the stone, like a bowl built into the wall, which held some small amount of liquid that had been set ablaze. He could no more bring that with him than he could fly up to the cavern ceiling and break through to the blue sky beyond it.

Now, with Aragorn unable to speak, but shivering uncontrollably, he wondered how he could get them out of this. His arrows were spent. He had his knives, but could not see far enough to be any threat to any who might attack, and if that attack was magical, he was sure he could not prevail.

He longed for a deep breath of cool, clean air, but the more he thought of it, the more shallowly he was able to inhale.

Aragron moaned as Legolas' grip on the Ranger's arm slipped. Legolas struggled for a hold, and might have been able to find one had his foot not instead found a deep depression in the stony ground. Legolas felt his ankle twist as he stepped involuntarily into the hole, and he heard a distinct crack as he and Aragorn went down.

**

To Be Continued

Strider's Girl: I'm glad you're enjoying it. Yes, the Blue Wizards are the ones that went missing. According to Unfinished Tales, part 4.II about the Istari, they were supposed to have passed into the east and never returned. It was unknown if they died, completed their tasks, or became servants of Saruron. I took some liberties with their whereabouts, but then that is the nature of fanfiction, isn't it?

Sirithliel: Such enthusiasm! I'm thrilled you like it! I'll try to update quicker next time, but my ISP has been causing all kinds of headaches for me. 

Jazi: It sure does get confusing! I can't tell you how many times I almost referred to Legolas as an elf and had to stop myself! Umgo easy on the chocolate!

White Wolf1: I'm overjoyed that you liked that line! I was going for something creepy yet descriptive, so I'm pleased it worked! I, too, like to write cliffhangers and hate to read them! Sorry this took so long,

Gwyn: Sorry to keep you up so late! I'm glad you liked it well enough to stay awake for it, though!

Leggylover03: Sorry, Elrond and Galadriel haven't quite gotten there yet! Soon! I promise!

Catherinexxix: I'm glad you liked the description of the spell and how the elves fell under it! I enjoyed writing that. Yes, Gandalf, Celeborn, and Galadriel are racing to the rescue, but what will they find there when they arrive? (Evil laugh!)

  
Chloe Amethyst: Exactly what I was going for with the spell! I am soooo glad it worked. I see the elves as fairly powerful and adept at so much that I wanted to write them vulnerable to some sort of dark magic and I wanted to describe what it might feel like for a being who is accustomed to feeling in control to lose control. I'll try to post the next update in a more timely fashion!


	11. part 11

See part one for disclaimer.

Please forgive the long delay. I am going to make a concerted effort to update more frequently in the New Year! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed! It does mean the world to me! Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

Encroaching Darkness Part 11

By Ecri

Gandalf was lost in thought and an uneasy silence had settled around himself and his elven companions as they moved further and further from Lothlorien. The warnings of the Lady of the Wood replayed in his mind. He knew, as she did, that they were running out of time. Something had happened, and Galadriel's ominous words about reaching those in trouble only in time to bury the dead had not surprised him. He had felt some darkness growing, but what it was he could not guess.

There was something deeper here, however, something that stirred the Lady of the Wood to make this journey. Something that haunted her though she herself did not know quite what it was.

He closed his eyes trusting his steed to carry him without need of his own direction and reached out for answers. Finding nothing but an urgent hint of impending doom, he sighed and opened his eyes. He could do no more than hope that things would be set right. 

He glanced then at Celeborn a question on his face. The elf lord shook his head once indicating he knew no more than did the Wizard. Galadriel simply rode on, not looking at either of her companions.

  
Gandalf watched her briefly, then drew his attention back to their surroundings. If evil was abroad, it would be best if he kept his wits about him.

**

Elrond made his way through the underbrush, cursing his uncharacteristic lack of grace and swiftness. Whatever odd condition had befallen him and the others, it was slow in leaving him. Losing his balance, he braced one hand against a tree and closed his eyes. Summoning strength from deep within, he inhaled deeply allowing the scent of the fresh, clean air to ease his pains. 

He wasn't choosing his path as carefully as he might and he berated himself for what amounted to a headlong dash into the unknown. If he intended to be any help at all to wayward son and his friend, Lord Elrond knew he had to exercise some caution. 

He glanced around the forest looking for some sign of his son's or Legolas' trail. It would have been a nearly impossible thing if both had been more themselves for the signs of their passing would have been nigh impossible to follow. As it was, however, he could easily follow the pair, which made him worry all the more.

What force could incapacitate elves and somehow manage to lead Aragorn and Legolas, both experienced hunters, to leave such an obvious trail? The answers he gave himself only heightened his anxiety and pushed him to shake off his own ills in order to focus more clearly on his task.

The Elf Lord moved cautiously but alertly through the woods, and it was as he approached a small cavern that he felt the dread in the pit of his stomach leap upwards and take a stranglehold on his heart. Some evil was within that cave. He could feel its presence as surely as he could feel the grass beneath his feetand the trail he followed led straight to it.

**

A strange sensation, an urgency he did not understand plagued Aragorn. He struggled to open his eyes, but found them uncooperative. Relying on his hearing for information about the world around him, he heard the sound of running feet, and, connecting it to the motion he felt in his body, realized he was running. Alone? He could not be running unaided more than half unconscious. 

He moaned as a particularly jarring step made him vaguely aware of an arm supporting him about his waist. His own arm seemed to be draped across someone's shoulders even as he realized that the hand on that draped arm was clasped firmly about the wrist as though to keep it from slipping away. 

Then he was falling. 

Gasping for breath and trying to moan in pain at the same time, Aragorn felt the hands that supported him pull away. He forced his eyes open but saw nothing but shadow on shadow. A dark shape moved before his eyes and the gentle hands returned easing him up. It was only then that Aragorn became aware that he had landed on the very person who had been helping him. He caught one of the hands, and heard the sharp intake of breath as he surprised the being here with him.

"Estel?" The joy in the voice was unmistakable, but so was the pain. Immediately concerned for his friend, Aragorn's grip on Legolas' wrist tightened slightly.

"Legolas? Are you alright?"

"That is a question I would ask you, my friend. I had feared the Wizard's grip on you was too strong for me to break." The Prince's voice was soft and hurried as though he feared they would be overheard.

  
Unconsciously mimicking the tone, Aragorn whispered as well. "I am well, my friend. Well," he amended, imagining he could see one slender eyebrow rising in disbelief. "Except for this pounding headache, I am well." The would-be King of Gondor heard a sound something like a snort and something like a laugh that brought a smile to his face. "Legolas, where are we? What has happened?"

Legolas sighed. "I have not the time for lengthy explanations. Suffice to say we are again lost in cave while enemies hunt us with little hope of outside help."

Ignoring the feeble attempt at sarcasm, Aragorn frowned at what he sensed in his friend's tone. "You are in pain." Aragorn did not make it a question. Mortal or immortal as his friend might be, he still knew the Prince of Mirkwood well enough to know this. 

Legolas inhaled sharply as he shifted his weight again. "I have not the time for that either, Estel. Come. We must find our way out of the cave before the missing Wizard finds us."

"That is twice you have mentioned Wizards. What are you hiding from me?" Aragorn reached out a hand to his friend's face, surprised when Legolas moved away from him. Awkward silence filled the cavern until Legolas cleared his throat.

"You startled me, my friend. That is all."

Determination to discover what Legolas hid from him forced the man to reach out again quite suddenly. His hand rested on Legolas' face and he felt the wet, sticky substance that dripped down the length of one side. "Legolas! You are injured."

"I am well" He stopped himself and started again. "I have not the time to worry over any hurt other that that which might stop us. If you are able to stand and walk, my friend, we should be on our way. I know not when the Wizard will return, nor do I know what condition he is in, save that he is likely to be very angry." He paused again, not liking what he had to say. "I am injured, Estel. I cannot walk quickly or well. My arrows are spent, and it was too dark to find them. II have lost my way in this cursed cavern."

  
His next words were muffled, and Aragorn guessed that he had lowered his head in shame. 

"I have no way to protect us save my knives, and, with a broken ankle and little light, I am hardly able to use those as well as I would like." His voice grew clearer as he admonished his friend. "We have little in our favor, Estel, so do not waste time thinking you can heal a hurt you cannot see." 

A thousand questions raced through Aragorn's mind, but knowing Legolas well, he pushed them aside and stood slowly. Reaching a hand out to his friend, he was relieved to feel Legolas firm grip on his wrist that meant Legolas would allow him to help. "Come, my friend. Let us waste no time."

Aragorn draped Legolas' arm around his own shoulders much as Legolas had held onto him before he had regained consciousness. Carefully, with Legolas not daring to put any weight at all on his broken ankle, the pair began to move. With any luck, they would find the cave entrance before the Wizard found them.

**

The First mumbled softly to himself as he wrapped the hand the elf arrow had pierced. His anger and grief grew with each passing moment. The Second was dead and no magic could bring him back. Astonished that this would be so, he had spent no small amount of time trying spell after spell to resurrect his dead brother. He knew the man and his strangely elvish though not-elvish friend were still within the cave. He knew they were hurt, and now he knew that they had—permanently—killed his brother. 

He would not let them leave alive.

Half-a-hundred macabre notions entered his mind, but he discarded each and every one. Whatever final payment they would make for taking The Second's life, he knew only that it would be a long and torturous ordeal, even if he had to extend their lives through magical means to insure that they would suffer endlessly. 

Taking a deep breath, The First let loose a howl of rage as he raced through his caves to find and punish the killers.

**

Legolas and Aragorn moved as swiftly as they were able. They had just come to a place where they must choose one direction over another when a great wail echoed through the cavern. Instinctively they turned towards each other though neither could make out the other's face. "He will come soon." Legolas whispered. "We must hurry. Perhaps we can rouse the others together"

"Rouse? What do you mean?"

Legolas cursed himself. He had not told Aragorn about the state in which he had left Lord Elrond and the others. He had not wanted to worry his friend, and, in truth, he could think of no way to help them anyway. The pain from his ankle and the frightful sound of that grief-filled shriek had muddled his thinking. He shook his head as though to clear it, but tried to move on through the cavern without answering the question. Reluctance was something Aragorn could fight, however.

"Come, Legolas. Even had you meant to keep something from me, there's no point to it now." Aragorn gestured towards the two tunnels between which they much choose. "We have a decision to make, Legolas, and I will not go on until I know what has happened."

Legolas nodded. "Very well, my stubborn friend. I will tell you but only if we keep moving." They chose one of the tunnels hoping it would lead them out of the darkness while Legolas explained how he had found the others unmoving and had been forced to leave them. Doubt as to the correctness of the decision, in light of their current condition, flooded through the former elf's mind. "I knew not what else to do, Estel," he whispered, his broken heart lacing his words with regret, sorrow, and grief. "I was loathe to leave them alone and unprotected, but there was nothing I could do for them. I could not leave you to wander through the forest just as alone and unprotected."

"Legolas, you needn't explain why you left. You did what you thought best. They may be awake now. We should find them." He led Legolas through the cave, and the Prince was grateful that he had said what he had, though he wasn't entirely certain the man wasn't consumed with worry for his family even as Legolas himself was. 

As they moved through the darkness, Legolas strained his sight wishing to see some hint that they were going in the right direction. It also kept his thoughts from lingering on the picture in his mind of Lord Elrond, Aglarelen, and the others gripped in some unnatural sleep and at the mercy of any creatures that might come upon them.

  
Whether the darkness or the fact that his attention was not on where he was going, he didn't notice the rock in his path until his slightly raised and still throbbing foot slammed into it. Muffling a scream, he lost his balance and fell to the ground taking Aragorn with him. Hot tears stood in his eyes, as his hands moved instinctively to his ankle though he did not try to touch it and only gripped his leg slightly higher than the injury.

Aragorn was by his side in an instant speaking soothingly though his words were lost to the prince as the agony in his ankle consumed his attention. Rocking back and forth, he wondered at the pain. More intense than he was accustomed to from broken bones, his ankle throbbed in time to his heartbeat, which was racing. He had tried to ignore the pain as he and Aragorn groped blindly through the dark corridors of the cave. He had tried to listen to Aragorn instead of to the ache in his severed bones with each awkward step they took. 

In truth, his concern over Argorn's headache had grown as they had walked. His friend was usually loathe to admit to any sort of pain, but twice in their meanderings he had made reference to his aching temple. His concern for Aragorn had almost overridden his own agony. That blasted rock had taken all other thoughts from him, and until the pain began to subside, Legolas could barely take in what Aragorn was saying.

"LegolasI cannot splint it until I can find some branches." Legolas felt more than saw Aragorn gesture around the cave. "There are none here, as I am sure you know, my friend.

Legolas took a deep steadying breath. The pain was beginning to recede. "It is well, Aragorn. Comewe must go on." 

Aragorn's grip on Legolas' arm kept the former elf still. "Are you sure you are able?"

"I have no choice." His whisper, though filled with pain, made plain his determination.

  
"Come, then, Legolas" Whatever more he might have said was interrupted by the sound of a strange cackling laugh. 

"You will go nowehere!" The raspy voice, as though long unused, spoke in tones both loud and angry. Legolas and Aragorn turned to see a sight they would not soon forget. The Blue Wizard stood tall and dangerous behind them, his eyes wide and glowing in the light of the torch he held blazing above his head. 

Legolas watched as Aragorn instinctively reached for the sword he did not possess. The Prince thrust one of his elven blades into his friend's groping hand. He looked at his friend, surprised to be able to see him so clearly after hours of stumbling in the darkness. He hefted his other knife in his hand and put out a shaky hand to the rock wall next to him. Unsteadily rising to his feet, he nodded once to Aragorn and the man took the cue and rose to stand beside him. 

Legolas had little hope they would be able to defeat this enraged wizard's dark magic, but what hope he had rested in his friend.

**

Lord Elrond walked cautiously through the cavern. He held aloft a torch he had quickly fashioned as soon as he had realized where he would be forced to go. In his other hand, he held tightly to his sword. 

The evil he felt within the cave troubled him. He knew Aragorn and Legolas would most certainly have sensed it. Why then would they choose to enter? That it might not have been a choice troubled him even more.

The spell that had been cast upon all of the elves in the company had surely been meant to deprive the young ones of any aid. Had it been an attack against Aragorn, against Legolas, or against both of them? Regardless of whom it had been meant to isolate, that some evil now held them was apparent. What evil? What entity now held the Hope of Men and the youngest Prince of Mirkwood? What would that evil do to them?

  
Questions piled upon questions, and it was all Elrond could do to keep his troubled mind from tormenting him with possible scenarios.

With great effort, he forced such visions from his mind and moved steadily forward. His path was chosen not by his sight or his hearing buy by instinct and the whispers of his heart. He focused on the missing pair and listened for some thought, some stray hint of the path they had taken. It was impossible to hide their essence from him. One was his son, and one was an elvish prince. He could not lose this trail cold though it might grow.

He stopped then when he heard an unearthly cry. His brow furrowed as he increased his pace. That cry held the promise of vengeance in it, and Elrond did not need to guess at whom it must be directed. His fingers tightened on his sword hilt even as he moved deeper into the darkness. 

**

Gandalf glanced around at the impromptu camp they had made. He and the Lothlorien Elves had been traveling fast and steadily for more hours than he cared to admit, but could not maintain that pace without at least resting the horses. A brief meal and a short time walking upon their own legs while their steeds grazed nearby or drank deeply of the clear, cool stream would help them keep to the road. 

They had not spoken of the need for urgency in some hourse, but they each felt it. Galadriel felt it perhaps more than the others, but Celeborn's eyes grew haunted the further they traveled. Whether the Lord picked up on his Lady's distress or had begun to feel his own forebodings Gandalf was not prepared to guess. 

Gandalf settled now against a tree trunk and closed his eyes. He sensed the movement about the small fire they'd built to prepare the evening meal. Galadriel and Celeborn sat nearby taking comfort in their closeness, companionship, and silent communication. 

Gandalf allowed the sounds of the camp to drift through his mind as he searched for some hint of the danger about which Galadriel had warned them. The layers of sounds, from the stirring of the stew, to the whinnying of the horses, to the call of birds, to the babble of the streamnature carried the weary wizard away and his concentration sought some focus he could not identify.

His consciousness floated above Middle-earth and through the air and earth, and it was the earth that gave him his first clue. Down, deep within the bowels of the Middle-earth, Gandalf the Grey felt a familiar presence. One of his brethren, if he dared hazard a guess, had returned from far away.

As he lingered in light contact with the other Maia, his thoughts alighted upon another. Two of his brethren, then. Deep within the earth was an odd place to find a Wizard, let alone two, but then, he mused, he himself had been forced to travel the road through Moria, though he hoped never to have to enter those dark, dismal mines again.

He was about to move away and allow his consciousness to search elsewhere for the trouble Galadriel had sensed, when something, some undeniable force bade him stay. Hearing the intent before grasping the words of the spells being used, Galdalf was certain he had found what he had sought.

It wasn't until he heard a preternatural wailing that made his blood run cold. His eyes flew open and he stared at Galadriel and Celeborn, who stared at him as though knowing precisely what he had seen. He stood even as he spoke, urgency evident in his every move. 

"We have not the time to eat. We must move on!" He moved with unprecedented haste to his horse and vaulted easily upon his back. With a clear whistle and a loud, solid yell, Gandalf raced away towards what he had heard hoping only that he could get there before it was too late.

To Be Continued

Leggylover03, dark-coyote, Fire Eagle: Sorry this wasn't ready sooner.

Roccovende, Gwyn, Slea, Sirithiliel: Thank you! 

  
Catherinexxix: I'm glad you like the relationship between Aragorn and Legolas and am even more gratified that you liked Elrond's waking. I was afraid that part might not be too believable. Thanks!

  
Strider's Girl: Sorry I didn't answer all the questions, but I hope to get to more of them in the next chapter.

elvingirl3737: Why, thank you so much! I am thrilled that you think I am so good at getting characters right. I am also very pleased that you like my POTC fic. I expect to have another update for that one very soon.

  
White Wolf1: Yes, poor Legolas has broken his foot! Of course, Aragorn isn't quite well, either. I am glad that you, too, like catherinexxix, liked the description and the waking of Elrond. That part was difficult to write without getting bogged down in over-sentimentality and I am really pleased that my intent came across.

Chloe Amethyst: Yeaaaayy! Another vote in favor of the Elrond waking scene! I'm tickled that so many of you chose to point out that that scene worked for you. Thank you for your constructive criticism. I reread the chapter and you are correct. I'll be reworking some of that as soon as I have a chance. Thanks so much for reading!

Bear: thanks! I'm overjoyed that you love it, and that you like the "mini-stories" under the greater umbrella of the larger one. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long!

Grumpy: I'm glad you like the idea of the Blue Wizards, though those are straight from Tolkienof course, I've taken a lot of liberty!

Psycho-dreamer: How flattering! Thank you!

Jadesaber: I'm glad you like it and I do intend to update more frequently.

  
Deana: Sorry this took so long.


	12. part 12

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 12

By Ecri

Gandalf rode with unnatural speed through the woods and paths of Middle-earth. With no clear destination in mind except the knowledge that he was needed to battle an evil that should not yet be awakened, he allowed his horse to find what path it would trusting that Eru was guiding both beast and wizard. He knew, sensed somehow, that his riding companions, The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood and their entourage, were keeping pace behind him, though he also knew they would not be able to for long.

The sense of urgency that had gripped him before he'd started this headlong gallop through Middle-earth had only increased. He was certain he would need to continue to enhance the speed at which he traveled, but he could not spare the energy and effort it would cost him to cast the spell over the entire group. If one or two followed closely, they might find themselves caught in his backwash and speeding ahead at unimaginable speeds but that could not be helped.

To move them all along would leave him spent when he got to wherever he was going. With the certainty he felt that his skills would be sorely needed there, he could not risk arriving unable to offer assistance. The others would have to keep up as best they could.

He drove relentlessly forward and the horse, through a combination of spells and of his instinctual knowledge of his master's needs, rode as far and as fast as he was asked. The only thing Gandalf knew was in his favor was that the weather had not yet turned. A storm was brewing, however. He felt it in his bones. Whether natural or unnatural, he could not yet tell.

The sense he'd had earlier of the Wizards had disturbed him. He had sensed not only their presence, but also their intentions. Dark and dangerous, the spell he had heard across the distances was one that would only strengthen the Shadow. He shuddered at the thought that any of his kind might betray their very purpose on Middle-earth, but he could think of nothing that would explain away the malicious intent of such a spell. The scream that followed had come almost precisely as the spell had fallen away, but he could not be sure which had come first. Had the spell's end brought on a scream or had the scream—caused by something else he could not imagine—brought on the spell's end? As he considered both possibilities, he realized that those weren't the only two options. It was possible something else entirely had brought about both.

Forcing such pointless speculations from his mind, Gandalf urged his horse to even greater speeds.

**

Celeborn watched his wife for some sign of fatigue or fear as they trailed behind Gandalf. He knew what the Wizard had seen for he had shared some small glimpse of it himself, though, he was certain, with much less detail. The extent of his own vision was in the sense of dread and doom that had all but overwhelmed him. Galadriel's vision was one she was not sharing. He knew she would eventually give him details, but as it had happened, she had only sought his hands and held tightly until Gandalf had spurred them all into motion. 

Celeborn knew his people looked to him for wisdom. Celeborn the Wise they called him, as did those of other races, but for whatever wisdom he had earned in the long centuries of his life, it was in times like these that he knew in his heart that it was through Eru's grace that they would defeat their enemy. Eru had given those he had created free will to choose their course. If too many chose the course of evil, then the Shadow would grow, but should light push back the encroaching darkness, then the Shadow would diminish.

He turned his head slightly to see his wife and watched a small smile appear on Galadriel's face. She turned to him with the love of millennia in her eyes, and he knew that she guessed how concerned he was for her. Smiling back at her, he put a question into his eyes.

She nodded ever so slightly—a motion few would have detected save her husband—and he felt his fears calm slightly. If she were not yet overwhelmed, then he knew there was yet something they could do. They would not fail. He would do all in his power to curtail the spread of darkness. Iluvatar's Will be done, he thought, as he urged his horse forward.

**

The struggle should have brought him some measure of fear, he knew, but he remained oddly calm. It was with a great sense of triumph that he finally wrenched his eyes open. His confusion only increased when his surroundings remained a blur. He drew in a deep breath and blinked a few times before he was finally able to bring the world into focus. 

The panic that he had not felt when his eyes would not open hit him now as he realized he could not move his limbs. With great effort, he turned his head seeking some assurance that his twin was nearby and well. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that his brother was indeed nearby, but that his eyes were closed as well. 

As Elladan watched, Elrohir struggled as though trying to lift some great weight from him. Elladan cursed his inability to help. He opened his mouth thinking he might, at the very leas, be able to wake his brother, if this was indeed sleep. His first attempt to speak produced little more than a strangled sound. His throat was parched, but he tried again and was rewarded. "Elrohir?" He called again and again, his voice clearing and gaining strength as he did. It was on his fourth attempt to awaken his brother that he realized he could move.

  
He wanted nothing more than to rush to Elrohir's side, but that was too ambitious an undertaking. His eyes scanned the camp and he frowned as he realized that Elrond, Estel, and Legolas were missing. Pushing both the thought and the fear it brought from his mind, he returned his attention to his brother.

Elladan felt strength seeping slowly back into his limbs. Flexing his arms and legs, he finally felt able to reach Elrohir. Slowly at first the elder twin felt his muscles giving in to his commands. Forcing himself to sit up, he crawled closer to his brother and placed his hands on Elrohir's shoulders. Shaking gently, he called again. "Elrohir! Please" before he could say more, his brother's eyes snapped open. 

"Elladan?" He croaked, but the voice lacked strength and volume. 

Elladan nodded anyway, understanding his twin perfectly. "Yes! Elrohir, can you sit?"

Elrohir struggled to rise and cast a wary glance around their campsite. "Elladan! What has happened? Where is Ada?"

Elladan shook his head. "I know no more than you, my brother. He was missing when I awoke a short time ago. So are Estel and Legolas. The fire seems to have gone out, and the rest of our companions are still asleep."

Elrohir's frown matched his brother's as he turned to look at the others. Glorfindel, Aglaralen "What could cause this?"

Elladan shook his head slightly, but it still felt slightly clouded. "Whatever it was, we should check on them. Can you stand?"

"Can you?" Elrohir replied. He stood slowly, and the brothers leaned heavily on each other. It seemed that the very act cleared their thoughts and restored their strength. 

Elladan knelt by Glorfindel. He called softly to the older elf in elvish, and, when he got no response, called again slightly louder. Again getting no response, he turned to Elrohir who knelt by Aglarelen. The younger twin shook his head, but before he could say a word, he turned his head, listening intently. 

Elladan copied the motion and realized that horses were approaching and at a high speed. Elladan counted at least two nearby and somewhere further away as many as fiveperhaps more. He shook his head, which was pounding. Feeling something shoved into his hands, he looked down to see his sword. Elrohir had retrieved both their weapons and seemed insistent that he be armed.

It was then that a single horse, moving so swiftly that it seemed he'd simply materialized before them, entered the small clearing. Pulled up short by its rider, the stallion maintained a grace of movement few horses could match. Impressed at the spectacle and still feeling the effects of what Elladan was now certain must have been some illness, the eldest of Elrond's sons barely contained his surprise when he saw who sat astride the noble steed.

"Mithrandir!" Elladan rushed forward, though he placed a hand to his head as he did so. 

Gandalf frowned at the elf as he slid off the horse. "Elladan, are you unwell?"

Elladan offered a small, tentative smile. "I am not myself." He gestured weakly to the camp. "None seem to have escaped the malady, except Ada, Estel, and Legolas, who seem to have escaped entirely."

Gandalf took in the sight of Elrohir and Elladan standing weakly amongst the others. He dismounted and was at Glorfindel's side in an instant. He nodded thoughtfully to himself. "He will wake soon. Whatever has struck you all down weakens even as we speak. He closed his eyes forcing his mind again to seek direction. When he opened them, he stared at Elladan. "You say your father, Estel and Legolas have disappeared?"

When Elladan nodded, his eyes locked on the Wizards. Realization hit him. "This is no malady. Something sought them out."

Gandalf shook his head slowly. "I have no answers to offer, Elladan. I have been guided here for some purpose and, since it cannot be to help you, I must assume that I am needed elsewhere. I will try to follow your father."

"We will go with you, Mithrandir." Elladan moved to collect what he would need to travel but was stopped short by the Wizard's iron grip on his forearm. 

"Nay. You will wait here." He gestured back the way he had come. "Your grandmother and grandfather are following not far behind me. Tell them which way I went. There may be need of their skills as well."

  
Elladan paled at the idea of something formidable enough to require the attention of Gandalf, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and Lord Celeborn.

Gandalf opened his mouth as though to offer some consolation, but snapped it shut again. 

Elladan watched as he mounted and rode away whispering a prayer to Iluvatar that all would be well.

**

Aragorn took the knife Legolas thrust into his hand and hefted it testing its balance. His eyes never strayed from the Blue Wizard before him as he sought some weakness, some vulnerability that would give them an advantage.

Finding nothing encouraging, he took a few steps slightly away from Legolas, who leaned heavily against the wall not daring to put any weight on his broken ankle. Aragorn knew his friend's usual agility would have been hindered by his lack of elven senses, but with the pain from the broken bone, Legolas would be unable to fight even at the lesser human standards he had begun to accept as normal.

The Ranger moved again, swiftly and suddenly, hoping his movements would draw the Wizard's attention and keep Legolas safe for a few more moments. He felt his heart sink when the Wizard's eyes remained fixed on Legolas. The Maia raised his arm, a bony finger pointing at the prince. Legolas fell backward as though hit by some invisible force. 

Aragorn heard the escape of air from Legolas' lips and knew he was winded. Forcing himself to attack, he lunged at the blue-robed figure, only to be flung aside by the smallest of gestures. He struck the ground hard on his right side, but refused to stay there. Struggling to stand, he glanced toward Legolas and saw the prince pulling himself upright and stumbling forward slightly. 

Legolas slashed outwards with his long knife, but the Wizard only smiled his evil, humorless smile. 

Aragorn struck again, hoping to be able to hit his mark while their assailant was focused on his friend. The blow caused the Wizard to stumble, and he turned to face the Ranger. Aragorn had not expected the wild-eyed enraged visage that turned towards him, and when the Blue Wizard raised an arm and flung it in his direction, Aragorn was not prepared for the strength of the force that struck him. Flying backwards several feet, Aragorn was stunned when he hit the wall, more because he was pinned to it by the same invisible force that had struck him than because of the not inconsiderable pain it caused. He struggled to pull away from the stone at his back but to no avail. He looked again at the Wizard who stepped closer to him and he tried not to think what the look of anticipation on its wizened face might mean.

**

Legolas, horrified by Aragorn's predicament, tried to force himself away from the support of the stone wall by his side. His foot would not take his weight, but he was able to turn and with a half-hobble, half-hop he managed to get once again within the limited range of his only weapon. The Blue Wizard raised his hand to strike at the helplessly immobile Aragorn, and Legolas let out a warrior's cry to distract him and break his concentration as the elf threw himself bodily at the Maia stabbing in a downwards motion with his blade.

Hoping against hope that Estel had been released from his captivity when Legolas attracted the Wizard's full attention, the elf didn't spare a glance back at his friend for fear that he would bring the man under the Wizard's scrutiny once more.

Legolas knew there was little chance of escape for him. He could not run with this injury to his foot, nor did he put much faith in his ability to find his way out of this dank, dark hole. He prayed to Eru to give him strength for what he was sure was his final battle and to lead Aragorn away. That the man might leave him now was perhaps a foolish hope, but he desperately prayed that his friend would understand that Legolas was giving him a chance to escape. Perhaps he could rouse Lord Elrond and the others. Surely, Glorfindel and Lord Elrond together could defeat such an enemy as this!

Landing in a tangle of limbs and robes, Legolas and the Wizard struggled for a time until the Wizard somehow seemed to grow. Whether it was illusion or not, Legolas felt as though the Maia were somehow too big to be contained within the cavern let alone by his own weak attempts to subdue such a creature. He felt a hand reach around him and grasp his neck forcing his head back until he looked the Maia in the eye. 

Shivering as though from a sudden chill, Legolas felt his limbs lose their strength. He heard, as though from a great distance, the sound of his knife hitting the ground, falling from his slackened grip. He felt his eyes widen in horror and stare into the dark depths of this Maia who had fallen to Shadow, but he was unable to tear them away. He felt a cold numbness grow outwards from the pit of his stomach until it engulfed him. He felt the Maia enter his thoughts. The cackle of triumph it released as it tore through his mind brought one realization to the injured prince. _It is over. Eru forgive me! I cannot fight this!_

**

Aragorn slid slowly down the length of the wall surprised by the sudden release. He saw his friend freeze in the Wizard's grip and he heard the sickening choking gurgle as Legolas tried to say something. Raising his knife, he hurled it with all his remaining strength at the Wizard. Breaking its hold on Legolas was all that mattered. He would not allow his friend to suffer once more on his behalf. 

The blade flew straight at the Wizard's face and struck it in the eye. A cry of rage and pain echoed through the cave, but to Aragorn's horror, the Blue Wizard's grip on Legolas did not slacken. Instead, he seemed to tighten his hold around the former elf.

Staring at Aragorn, the Blue Wizard hefted his burden letting the Ranger see that he was still in charge. He smiled a hideous smile as he plucked the knife from his own eye barely caring that his eye remained on the blade.

The blade. Aragorn now realized the full folly of his action, for, as the Wizard moved towards him, dragging Legolas in one hand and hefting his bloodied blade in the other, Aragorn realized he was alone and unarmed.

**

Lord Elrond had never seen a cave like this one. Labyrinthine twists and turns, dead end trails, and crumbling stalagmites and stalactites frustrated every effort the Elf Lord made to find his son and the Prince. He reached another stone wall, and threw his hands up in irritation. It was then that a great cry of rage met his ears. Turning, he retraced his steps following the sound, but its echoes sought to confuse him further. It wasn't until his sharp elven senses picked up the sound of battle that he was able to pick his way through the labyrinth towards where he was certain he would find his son.

What had lured them here Elrond could not guess. That his son would wander away from their campsite with his best friend in tow at the precise time that the rest of them were stricken with some unknown curse worried him. A plot it must be, but whom, he wondered was behind it? 

Speculation was pointless at the moment, he decided, as he hurried his pace. The sounds he had heard had altered and a great elvish war cry had reached him. Recognizing the Prince's new, altered, and quite human-sounding voice, Elrond was also able to hear the anguish that laced those tones. Something, he was certain, had happened to Aragorn.

To come so close and be too late to help was something the Lord of the Last Homely House would not endure. Breaking into a graceful, yet frantic run, he finally reached a widened area in the cave. The sight that greeted him was not one he would ever forget even should he live to the end of all time: Aragorn stared weaponless at the towering blue-cloaked Wizard who held the limp form of the Prince of Mirkwood in his hand. The imposing form moved with purpose and a barely contained lust for blood as it closed the distance that separated him from Estel. The Elvish knife he held in his hand was raised and caught what little light remained within the cavern. 

Elrond's heart froze for a moment, skipping a beat. Raising both hand and voice, Elrond concentrated every fiber of his being, every nuance of his elven heart, every corner of his immortal soul onto the one weapon he possessed that could yet even these odds, or, indeed, tip them in his favor. 

Vilya sparkled on his finger as the words of an elvish spell came unbidden to his lips.

To Be Continued

  
Deana: I hope this was soon enough! I'm glad you enjoyed the Elrond scene!

Leggylover03: More Estel angst (and pain!) on the way!

  
Templa Otema: Don't be silly! I don't mind wrap up reviews, just so long as they're reviews. There's nothing pointless in any review! First, I'm thrilled that you think this is "brilliantly written"! What a flattering thing for an author to hear! I was hesitant to tackle the Legolas-becomes-human scenario because I was worried about where the plot bunny would take me! I'm glad I did, however, since it has been a challenge and I love challenges. I believe Legolas is a strong character and wouldn't give up or grow overly melancholy if this were to happen. Sure, he's going to have some problems and some doubtsthat's only human! Hee! I'm also tickled that you like the Galadriel arc! There's more to come from that group! As for Thranduil, I've always preferred the nice Thranduil stories. I don't believe he would be nasty or mean to Legolas. All in all, I'm thrilled that you took the time to send such a detailed review! It means a lot to me, and I couldn't be happier that you liked the story and characterizations enough to tell me about it! Thanks so much! Keep reading and reviewing!

Catherinexxix: Thanks! I'm getting a lot of positive feedback about Elrond! I'm glad he's coming across so well. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you think both Aragorn and Legolas appear to be strong characters! You've e-mailed before and told me how much you love Elrond and Galadriel, so I'm glad my characterization rings true for you! Thanks, and keep reading and reviewing!

  
Strider's Girl: Thanks! Wow! What great reviews I'm getting! It does seem sort of hopeless for our heroes, doesn't it? They're going to have some hard time getting out of this! I'm thrilled that you like Gandalf! He's a great character and so much fun to write! Thanks again and keep reading and reviewing! 

Sirithiliel, Gozilla, Jadesaber, Ithildiel, Just Me: Thanks! Glad you like the angst!

IslaQS: Thank you! I'm glad you like the story I have to tell! Wow! You read it all in an afternoon! That's flattering! Thank you so much! Your English is actually very good, by the way. Happy New Year to you, too!

Grumpy: Thanks! Yes, there's a lot going on just now with angry wizards! Gandalf will be there soon!

  
White Wolf1: Yes! That's what I was going forthat whole being unable to get away feeling that we all get sometimes, even if only in dreams! I'm so glad you saw that! More Elrond and Gandalf soon!

Chloe Amethyst: I agree about Elrond. That's why I had him run to the rescue. He's rarely in the thick of the fight in fanficsat least in the ones I've read. It took me awhile to stumble onto the device of using Aragorn's awakening to draw the reader in, but once I did, things seemed to work a lot better! Thanks again for the review!


	13. part 13

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 13

By Ecri

Celeborn watched the setting sun from his perch atop his steed. Gandalf's departure, aided by the speed of some spell, had left the rest of their party desperate to reach his side and offer aid. 

The day had faded more quickly than he had thought it would. His wife had not had any further visions, but both had felt the sense of forebodingof evilgrow. Now with the darkness of night compounding with the more insidious Darkness they had been trailing, Celeborn felt they should press on without stopping. They were elves, after all, and had no need to stop for the evening if some further need claimed them. The horses could be fed and watered. The warriors themselves could do without or eat and drink while mounted.

He glanced at Galadriel and she, sensing the look, graced him with a smile that answered his unasked question. She was well. He returned the smile. "We should" He began.

"not stop." She finished. 

He nodded as she signaled to Haldir that they would continue on, but just as the March Warden reached his Lady's side, they each noticed a campfire burning somewhere ahead of them. Haldir glanced at the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood waiting silently for instruction.

Celeborn nodded absently. He was not blessed with foresight, but he could sense his grandsons nearby. "Elladan and Elrohir" Externally, the ancient elf seemed as calm, as stoic as always. Internally, his heart leapt, not only in joy and surprise that Elrond's sons were nearby, but also in fear that the Shadow they had followed might be a threat to them.

He knew his wife shared both his delight and his fear, so he was not surprised that when he urged his horse into a quick trot, his wife kept pace with him.

Celeborn's eyes sought his grandsons as soon as they neared the camp. It took the elf lord only a moment to find the twins. Elladan was kneeling by Glorfindel offering some soup or stew, and Elrohir stood close to an elf Celeborn could not immediately place. A moment later he recognized the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, and wondered what task would have put one of Thranduil's sons on the same road as Elrond's.

Leaping from his horse, Celeborn called greetings to his grandsons even as he offered a hand up to his wife to help her down, though, truthfully, she did not need any such assistance. _"Mae govannen!"_ Celeborn was surprised to see relief on their faces as if they had all expected to see the group from Lothlorien ride into their midst.

Elladan whispered something to Glorfindel, who took the bowl of food from the son of his friend. Rising,, Elrond's eldest moved quickly to his grandparents. _"Mae govannen!_ We could not be happier to see you!" His confession came quickly, and Celeborn saw again relief and love in his eyes.

"What has happened?"

Elladan quietly told them all that he could though he was unable to explain the odd affliction they had suffered. Explaining Gandalf's quick departure on Elrond's trail, Elladan gestured in the direction the Grey Pilgrim had gone. "Mithrandir said to let you know there may be need of your skills." He shook his head slightly and Celeborn saw a hint of fear in his grandson's eyes. "I can only guess what would cause him to say such a thing." 

Celeborn's eyes widened at this last news. _So_, he thought, _the Shadow we chase is near._ He nodded once, and mounted his horse again. "We will go at once." He did not need to look at Galadriel to know that she, too, had already mounted. 

Haldir, perhaps for once more farseeing than either his Lord or Lady, had not dismounted. Calling to those in his charge, he divided up tasks, taking half with him and ordering the rest to set up a perimeter around Elladan's and Elrohir's campsite. Once all orders were issued, he turned expectant eyes to Celeborn and Galadriel.

With a nod, Celeborn was about to lead them on the path Gandalf had taken, when a hand on his wrist stayed him. Looking down, he saw Elrohir gazing up at him. 

"We will go with you." He gestured to his brother as he spoke.

Celeborn smiled. "Nay, Elrohir. If any of what we have sensed in the days behind us holds your father or the others, we will have need of hale and healthy healers. Gather what herbs and medicines you may while we are gone. We may have need of _your_ skills as well." 

Elladan spoke before his twin could reply. "We have spent the past few hours doing just that. We are prepared to ride, for if there are injuries, would it not be better if we can offer treatment immediately rather than wait here?"

Celeborn frowned. His grandsons had rarely argued with him. He made the slightest of gestures, which seemed to encompass the entire campsite. "What of the others? Surely, you do not wish to leave them alone." He turned to look at Glordindel and Aglarelen, both of whom he expected to see sitting by the fire. Instead, each was checking his weapons and preparing to ride.

Celeborn traded a glance with Galadriel, and though neither appeared to speak, communication of some kind obviously took place.

The small party moved with haste in the direction their daughter's husband had taken with Haldir close behind. Just before he disappeared from sight, Celeborn looked back at the twins who had slipped their own horses in formation behind their grandparents. 

**

Gandalf's scowl seemed a permanent part of his features as he traced Elrond's trail through the twists and turns of the dark caverns. He had come upon the cave just as night fell, and, tethering his horse nearby, he had immediately set out after the Lord of Imladris. The trail was not hard to follow for Gandalf could sense what paths Elrond had taken. 

As he moved, he sought some sense of the evil that had brought him here, for here, he knew, was where it dwelt. It grew stronger, as he had suspected it would, the further he went. Hearing a warrior's cry in elvish, he quickened his pace, his scowl deepening.

After more than a few moments, he stopped dead in his tracks sensing something. "Oh, no." His whisper was so soft it produced no answering echo, and, though he stood still as stone for a moment, hoping that his own senses would be wrong, he knew they were not. Elrond was nearby, and he had unleashed the power of the mightiest of the Three Rings of Power. "What can he be thinking!" Gandalf could imagine few things that could have made the Elf Lord do such a thing, and each was more horrifying than the last. Breaking into a run, the Wizard begged Eru to bring him to Elrond's side quickly.

**

Aragorn took an involuntary step backward as the Blue Wizard stepped menacingly closer. He couldn't keep his eyes from dancing over to Legolas' form looking desperately for some sign of his friend's condition. At first, there was no movement at all, but soon Legolas hand, still clutching his knife, lashed out at the evil creature who held him.

  
Aragorn watched as the Wizard bellowed his displeasure and turned to look at Legolas as if he'd forgotten he held the prince in his hand. The Ranger looked around him desperately seeking something he could use as a weapon and berating himself for having thrown his knife at the wizard. Unable to find anything else, Aragorn grasped a large rock and taking as careful an aim as he could, heaved it with all of his strength at the Wizard's head. 

As he released the rock, he saw the Wizard raising the knife Aragorn had thrown at him. He was poised as though to slit Legolas' throat when the rock struck him on the right temple. Blood began to flow immediately and the Maia stumbled back in surprise. Enraged, the blue-robed figure hurled Legolas away from him and turned on Aragorn.

The Ranger easily read the Wizard's deadly intent. Aragorn retrieved another stone and was about to throw it when he felt a strange sensation. The sensation grew and even as the Wizard drew nearer to him, and, presumably, Aragorn drew nearer to death, he could no longer ignore it. Before either the Ranger or the Wizard could strike, the air in the cavern seemed to pulse with power. As impossible as it seemed, a wind whipped around the pair pulling at their clothes and forcing their eyes closed against the flying dust and dirt.

Aragorn dropped the stone he held and put an arm up to shield his eyes as he looked away from his enemy. His eyes were drawn of their own accord to the crumpled form of his friend who still lay where he'd been carelessly tossed. Aragorn felt a growing lump in his throat as he realized there was little he could do to help his friend. Whatever was about to befall them, he could never get past the Wizard in time to do anything for Legolas. Even if he could, what could he do? 

As he considered this, he realized the Wizard was not behind this latest onslaught. The more fiercely the very air around them tried to tear them to pieces, the more puzzled the Wizard appeared. He was glancing around frantically now as if trying to determine who or what was causing this. 

Distracted as the Wizard was, Aragorn realized he had a chance, albeit a slim one. He took one last look at Legolas to fix his position in his mind, then, shielding his eyes with both arms, he dashed by his foe trying to reach the Prince. If he could do naught else for Legolas, he would be by his friend's side when the end came.

**

King Thranduil felt the passing of each moment as he never had in all his long years. The absence of both his eldest and youngest sons was quickly becoming a burden too heavy to bear especially as he knew naught of his Greenleaf's condition. His mind recognized that the march of days had not been long enough that the Rivendell company could have yet reached Lothlorien, but his youngest son's dire predicament could well be altered long before they reached the Golden Wood. 

  
Legolas was mortal. The thought seemed more than he could wrap his tired brain around. Legolas could well die even as he sought a cure. Thranduil would have worried about his son's well being without his having lost his–elvishness–but his worry now bordered on fear so deep it was almost paralytic. Injury that Legolas might have once found minor could now prove fatal. 

His dreams of late had been riddled with thoughts of Legolas dying. Visions of Aglarelen returning to him bearing the lifeless body of his youngest, dearest brother kept him from seeking the much needed rest of elven sleep.

His last such dream had been worse by far. In it, Aglarelen, bloodied and bruised, had returned to him empty handed, explaining to his father that Legolas had died such a horrendous death that there had been naught left to return to his father. Then, as his eldest son tearfully told him the details of such a death, he succumbed to grief and faded before the King's very eyes, and Thranduil was left with a heart not only broken, but also shattered.

Shaking off such memories was hard even upon awakening, and Thranduil found himself walking through his days with only half his mind. The other half by turns hid from the shadow of his own thoughts or probed that shadow deeply, as if forcing the dream-hurt upon himself might make it easier to bear should it come to pass.

His advisors and ministers, even the captains of his guards and patrols, would cast surreptitious glances towards him when they assumed he was not looking. He had caught many of them and could not help but wonder what had managed to escape his attention. 

Whatever they might think, he handled his duties with the usual aplomb. Settling disputes, ordering troops to protect areas that seemed to attract more orcs than ever before, hearing report after report on orc and spider movementthese things had become his world. He passed each day well submerged in the day-to-day decisions of keeping his people safe. His mind was on business. His heart was with his sons. If he could have helped it, he would not have been the elf he was, nor would his sons be what he had reared them to be. 

His speculations on his sons' whereabouts and well being would run rampant. His prayers to Iluvatar for their safe return–hale, whole, and _elven_–would occupy some portion of his mind and heart at all times. He would forget neither his duty to his people, nor his obligation to his offspring. 

His head pounded suddenly, and he gasped placing a hand to his temple. Closing his eyes briefly against the light that now blinded him, he heard his son's voice. His sweet Greenleaf was calling out to him! He half rose from his throne but sank back when his knees would not support his weight. "Legolas!" He called to his son in his mind, not realizing he had whispered the name aloud. 

Ada! He heard not only the word, but also the desperation, the pain behind it, then, nothing. Not another sound. No intake of breath. No agonized scream. Nothing. What it could mean, he could not guess, but he canceled his afternoon appointments with the intention of returning to his rooms. At the last moment, he changed his mind. When his advisors looked for him later, he was asleep upon Legolas' bed.

**

Elrond continued to whisper the words of the spell calling Vilya to command the air within the cavern to twist, writhe, and chase itself like a dog chasing its own tail. As Elrond's rage at seeing what the Blue Wizard had done–and intended to do–to his son grew, the Elf Lord's reason abandoned him. He had seen his son's condition, and he had seen the Blue Wizard holding the limp form of the youngest Prince of Mirkwood in one hand. 

He watched as the Wizard tossed Legolas away as if he were no more than a useless rag. He saw the Wizard turn towards Aragorn after Aragorn's rock struck. Raising his own sword, Elrond approached the Blue-robed figure from behind, and with a great cry in elvish, in answer to the one Legolas had uttered earlier, he lunged at the creature with murderous intent.

His blade struck true, and Elrond had the satisfaction of hearing his enemy cry out in surprise and pain. His foe turned to face him then, and Elrond gave no ground. He struck again and again until the Blue Wizard held up a hand sending Elrond stumbling backwards. Whether because he was prepared for the move or because of the strength of Vilya, concealed and out of the Wizard's sight, Elrond barely took a step back.

The Wizard's puzzled expression brought a small smirk to the Elf Lord's lips–one his twin sons and his companion, Glorfindel, often insisted he had never worn in the years before he had known Aragorn.

He spared a glance beyond the Wizard's shoulder and was relieved to find Aragorn alive and alert tending to a still dazed though no longer unconscious Legolas. Then there was no more time for looking.

The Wizard drew his own sword, and a mighty one it was. Forged in the ancient days of the Last Alliance, the elven blade was as strong, though perhaps not of as great a lineage as Elrond's own weapon. The clash of metal upon metal echoed through the cavern carried by the ends of the windstorm Elrond had conjured, which the Elf Lord had allowed to dissipate though it had not entirely ceased.

As they fought Elrond maneuvered himself around the Wizard until he stood between the blue menace and the two young ones whose trail had led him here. His blade met the other stroke for stroke, and it seemed neither would falter, but then, neither was it possible that both would continue indefinitely.

Elrond continued to batter at the Wizard's defenses, and was on the verge of doing something more drastic with Vilya's help, when he heard something behind him.  
  
The stentorian tones of The Grey Pilgrim filled the cavern as Gandalf stepped forward. Raising both arms–one hand clutching his staff and the other clutching Glamdring–above his head, Gandalf challenged the Blue Wizard, though Elrond did not withdraw from the battle.

The Elf Lord watched with grim satisfaction as a look of surprise spread across the Blue Wizard's face, and, Elrond was certain, there was a hint of fear in those wide eyes.

Taking advantage of the situation, the Lord of Imladris raised his sword and threw himself into the attack.

**

Gandalf, having sensed the Wizard's presence, was not at all surprised to see Alatar, the First of the Blue Wizards. Where Pallando was, he could not guess, but he could not sense him nearby. Keeping alert in case the Second of the Ithryn Luin were to appear, Gandalf put as much of himself into his voice as he could, spilling more magic into that cavern than he had used in an age. 

Alatar was surprised to see him. That much was evident. 

It was Elrond's use of Vilya, which Gandalf had sensed before he'd found the Elf Lord that most troubled him. Revealing it now could well be dangerous. The repercussions if such information became common knowledge could not be calculated.

Gandalf knew Elrond, with the help of Vilya, could easily defeat Alatar, but he was glad to see that Elrond resisted what must be an overwhelming desire. Protective of Estel to the last, Elrond had also developed a great affection–and consequent protectiveness–towards the youngest of Thranduil's sons. Gandalf knew it would be nothing less than fear for their lives that would have prompted Elrond to unleash even this smallest fraction of Vilya's power.

Gandalf raised his arms above his head and bellowed his spell across the space that separated him from Alatar. He knew that, if Alatar now served the Shadow, then so did Pallando. One was never without the other.

Alatar, however, had been fighting for quite some time. Gandalf had sensed that original spell that had sent him on his mad dash to this place days ago, he was sure. The expenditure of energy and power had to have been great. He could not have much more upon which to draw.

  
Sure enough, when Gandalf's spell drew Alatar's attention, the Blue Wizard faltered. Taking a step back, he seemed to be gathering his strength. Stepping back then towards Gandalf, though never turning his back on the danger Elrond presented, Alatar raised his own hand in preparation of casting some counter spell of his own. Gandalf did not give him the chance.

A swift, sudden motion from the Grey Wizard flung Alatar against the rock wall behind him. Stunned by the impact, the Blue Wizard's spell faltered, and, like a candle sputtering in the wind, seemed unable to regain its full power.

Gandalf took a step closer to the fallen form, noting that Elrond swung out with his blade at the same moment and stepped closer to the Wizards. The move brought Aragorn and Legolas to Gandalf's sight for the first time as Elrond stood ready to attack again if necessary, but obviously greatly relieved to have been joined by Mithrandir. 

Elf and Ranger both looked somewhat the worse for wear, but Gandalf was glad to see them both alive. Where there was life, there was hope.

Elrond swung his sword again but, somehow, Alatar blocked the blow. His attention, however, seemed not to waver from Gandalf.

"What do you here, Olórin?" The voice, raspy from disuse, still held the power of whatever magic the Blue Wizard possessed.

  
Gandalf allowed himself a half-smile at the question before replying. "I ask the same of you, Alatar! You have been missing for many a long year. Why are you here? What evil do you bring with you?"

Alatar sneered and raised his staff as though the sudden movement might escape Gandalf's notice. Gandalf raised his own staff in response, and for several moments the two battled in the manner of Wizards. Tossed to the ground or against the wall again and again, each was soon battered and bruised, but neither was prepared to surrender.

Gandalf, less weary of battle than his foe, soon gained the upper hand, and, though he was loathe to do it, he raised his staff in Alatar's direction. Before delivering what he was sure would be a fatal blow, he called out to the Wizard. "Surrender, my old friend. Admit your mistake in taking the course the Shadow laid before you, and perhaps you may yet fulfill your purpose in life!"

"Purpose?" Alatar sneered at the Grey Wizard. "My brother has been taken from me! Pallando is no more and it was thatthat creaturethat _not-elf_ who took him! What purpose can there be for one accustomed to life lived in tandem? Half a life? Half a purpose?" He laughed, and his laughter filled not only the cavern with it's maniacal sound, but also the hearts of those who heard it. 

  
Alatar then raised his own staff and pointed it at Gandalf. Gandalf braced himself for the magical blow even as he prepared to strike Alatar himself forcing himself to disregard Alatar's strange words about a _not-elf_.

  
At the last moment, whether stirred by some recollection that his true task–the purpose he and his brother had undertaken–had been left unfulfilled, Alatar turned as quickly as a thought and faced Aragorn.

Gandalf saw surprised upon Aragorn's face as he came under the Wizard's scrutiny. The Ranger quickly shook off any such emotion and did naught but position himself more directly between Alatar and Legolas. He had time for no more.

With a wordless shriek that tore at the souls of elf, human, and Wizard alike, Alatar loosed the power of his staff in the direction of the young Ranger. No sooner had streaks of blue, crackling energy left the staff end than Gandalf, with an outraged cry of his own, released the power of his own staff at Alatar.

Agony tore a cry of a different sort from the Blue Wizard's lips. Fire seemed to engulf him, and blue robes became blue flame. In no more than a moment, he was gone. Both flames and robes winked out of existence with the disappearance of the First–and Last–of the Blue Wizards.

**

Legolas had been stunned when the Blue Wizard tossed him into the stone wall. In his dazed state, his thoughts had turned to Thranduil. His mind cried out for his father, but the pain he felt, the disorientation, drove such thoughts from him. 

The muscles in his back protested mightily when he struck the unyielding rock. It took the prince several moments to draw in a ragged breath and several more to still his trembling. His head throbbed in time to the beat of his heart, and he struggled to suppress the nausea the throbbing seemed to awaken.

Somehow, he managed to shift his head enough to catch a glimpse of Lord Elrond as he engaged the Wizard in battle. Legolas struggled to rise so that he might offer help to the Lord of Imladris, but he found he could not. He cursed himself for expecting elven resilience when he was unable to shake off the effects of the blow. Letting out a decidedly unelven groan, Legolas clenched his eyes shut stunned by the intensity of the nausea that reclaimed him.

He did not know how much time had passed. He thought it had been a matter of mere moments, but when he was confronted with Aragorn's face hovering just above his own, and he had no memory of his friend crossing the cavern to reach him, he had to admit he must have passed out for longer.

  
"Estel," he whispered, "are you well?"

Aragorn smiled at his friend. "That is what I would ask of you, _mellonin_."

Legolas returned the smile as well as he could placing one slender hand to his head. "I will be well, Estel. Help me to rise that we might help your father."

Aragorn gripped his friend's shoulders keeping him still. "Nay, my friend. You are in no condition." He glanced back at his father as the windstorm of Vilya and the Elf Lord's sword kept the Blue Wizard at bay. "Besides, I do not know what help you and I could offer."

Legolas followed Aragorn's gaze, and it was in that moment that they heard Gandalf's voice. Legolas' heart leapt in joy. "It is Mithrandir! He has come!" They watched the battle as Elrond and Gandalf struggled against the evil Wizard. 

Both Ranger and Prince were transfixed by the battle wishing to be able to go to their aid. Legolas, however, knew he would be unable. He could not stand. His head was still pounding. He had lost his quiver, and one of his knives. It was only after cataloguing how he could be of no use to his friends that Legolas realized that Aragorn was able to stand. He placed his last weapon, his second elven blade, into his friend's hand and closed Aragorn's fingers around the hilt. "Take this my friend. Help them."

It was then that the Wizard, whose name, they had learned, was Alatar, turned to Aragorn.

Legolas read the intent in those stormy eyes. As Estel scrambled to position himself between the enraged Wizard and Legolas, the Prince groped futilely for his hand. "Nay, Estel! Do not!" Standing in battle with Lord Elrond and Mithrandir was one thing, but thisLegolas could not bear for his friend to place himself in danger for his sake. 

Legolas watched Alatar raise his staff. He watched Aragorn raise his knife and stand between himself and the Wizard. As Gandalf and Alatar released blow and counterblow, Legolas watched, powerless to help. When Alatar's blow struck the Ranger, Legolas felt his heart tear in two. He never realized that the sound he heard was his own scream.

To Be Continued

Immortal-grace: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!

Deana: Yeah, Elrond's timed that well! I hope you like how he handled things in this chapter!

Leggylover03: Sorry for the evil cliffie. You probably don't like this one much, either! Plenty of pain and angst to come! Glad you liked Elrond!

Tychen: I'm sure Legolas appreciates your offer! Elrond needs to be the hero more often, I think. He's a great character!

Grumpy: Wow! I'm blushing! I'm thrilled this is one of your favorite stories! Everyone really likes the Elrond parts. I'm glad he came along, too!

Chloe Amethyst: I'm overjoyed that you liked it! Scary and intense was precisely what I was going for! As for Elrond, he's really striking a chord with everyone, it seems! I'm glad you caught the spiritual tone. It's the sort of thing I love to read, but I'm always afraid I might overdo it and turn off some readers. Legolasyes, that's what I was trying to get across! That he's willing to do what he feels he must for those around himthat he doesn't wallow in self-pity. I'm so tired of fics where Legolas cries every other paragraph! He's a strong character! A warrior! He's not into self-pity!

Catherinexxix: It's funny you said that. I thought so myself about this being a strong chapter! I'm glad you said so. Thanks for the flattering review. I love Celeborn and Galadriel, and, like Elrond, they seem to be minimalized from time to time. I'm glad you like what I'm doing with them! I'm glad you like Gandalf's use of magic, too! I imagine you either loved or hated the magic in this chapter! 

  
Webster: Another vote in favor of the Elrond action! Thanks so much!

Mirrordance: Wow! Thanks! I will go onand onand on!

Sirithiliel: Oops! Sorry! If you can't handle the suspense, I don't imagine you cared much for this cliffie!

Endril McMerlyn: Great name! What a flattering review! You made my day! I am, of course, thrilled that you like what you've read so far. More Aragorn coming soon!

Gwyn: Yeah, Elrond was thinking like a father just then!

Hansay1300: Thanks!

Estelreader: Thank you for reading and for reviewing! The best parts of the LOTR universe, to me, are the relationships and how much they care for each other. Without that, I don't think we'd all be writing these fanfics!

Templa Otmena: I imagine this one was a bit of an evil cliffie, wasn't it? Sorry! Yeah, villains do seem to be inordinately perturbed by the simple fact that heroes fight back. Go figure! More Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf and everyone else in the next chapter!

Strider's Girl: Chapter twelve is sure the chapter to inspire reviews meant to make me blush! Thank you so much! And yes, as you can see, there will be plenty more Aragorn pain! I don't think you're sick to askwell, no sicker than the rest of us! LOL!

Fire Eagle: Thanks! I'm glad you like it! I hope you like this chapter, too!

White Wolf1: Yes, they really wanted to go along! That's pretty much why I let them in this chapter! 

Elven Kitten: The important thing is you found it! Thanks! I'm glad you like it.

EnglishMystic: I hope this was soon enough!


	14. part 14

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 14

By Ecri

Aglarelen watched as Elladan and Elrohir explained to their grandparents where Gandalf had gone, and why they suspected Elrond, Aragorn, and Legolas were in danger. There was one thought in his mind. He wondered only when he would find a way to ask the Lord and Lady if they knew of some way to help Legolas become an elf again. He knew he should have other concerns. He knew he should harbor some fear that they might not find Legolas, Aragorn, and Elrond, but he could not forget the purpose of their journey. He knew the Lord and Lady were fearful for Lord Elrond, and likely for Aragorn as well. He saw the fond, concerned glances they threw at Elladan and Elrohir. He did not want to seem insensitive to their family worries, but Legolas, since the day he had been born, was always his chief concern. 

He never knew why, but from the moment his mother had brought forth her youngest son, Aglarelen had felt a deep connection with the elfling. Though he loved all his brothers, it was Legolas who inspired in him the most worry for his future, the most concern for his well being, and the most pride in his accomplishments.

The feelings, however inexplicable, were certainly returned. From a young age, Legolas had taken to following Aglarelen whenever he was home, to greeting him loudly and well whenever he returned home, and to becoming sullen and melancholy whenever he had to leave home. 

It could not be that he and Legolas were close because they were the oldest and youngest sons of Thranduil, for each of his other two brothers had, at one time, been the youngest. Neither was it that Legolas needed more looking after. He was a more than capable warrior. He was, without doubt, the greatest archer Mirkwood had ever known.

He recalled once, having returned home after representing his father at a meeting in Rivendell when circumstances at home had made it impossible for the King to be away. He was halfway to Rivendell with what Royal escort he'd brought when they realized there were wolves approaching. They continued on for some time watching the animals stalk them and waiting for some hint of aggression. They would have to be provoked to attack so large a group. Of course, hunger was always quite the motivator.

It was when Aglarelen turned to issue an order that the wolves attacked. They were desperate creatures, which made them all the more dangerous. Aglarelen had cut down several when he heard one of the guards call to him. The Crown Prince whirled around, weapon at the ready, but just moments before he would have struck, the animal's growl became a whimper, and it fell to the ground, two arrows buried in its throat.

  
He turned around to thank whoever had saved him, only to see a slight shake to the tree branches above him, followed by the sudden appearance of his youngest brother who leaped from the tree to land beside him. Aglarelen's eyes widened. "Legolas?" 

His young brother's eyes twinkled. "You need to work on your reaction time, brother. That, and your eyesight. That none of you knew I followed" he broke off his comment as he started to laugh. 

  
Aglarelen had hugged his brother to him fiercely, glad he was well, and not at all upset that he had followed.

Shaking off such memories, Aglarelen looked once more towards the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, surprised to see Galadriel looking directly at him. He inclined his head in a sign of respect. The Lady gestured for him to ride up and join her.

The Crown Prince did so, wondering if the Lady thought his silence rude. Once he'd brought his horse even with hers, Galadriel, graced him with the slightest of smiles. Small as the gesture was, it increased her beauty tenfold–a feat Aglarelen would have considered impossible had he not seen it for himself.

"What troubles you, Prince Aglarelen Thranduilion?" The Lady's voice was a song unto itself.

"I would not speak yet of my own burdens, my lady. If we find what we dread on this road, there will be little point in my request." Agalarelen had been tortured by the thought that he would not see Legolas again since he had awoken to find his brother missing, but, the truth was, it was a struggle not to make his request.

Galadriel looked towards her husband, who rode by her side. The two seemed to share some internal conversation before Galadriel turned back to Aglarelen.

"We would hear your request."

Aglarelen nodded, gathering his resolve. "My brother, he has" Aglarelen halted. He was still unsure what to call this. How could he explain? "Somehow, Legolas hashuman. There is nothing Lord Elrond can do for him. We had hope that there would be something you could do."

  
Galadriel turned again to Celeborn. Their eyes locked in secret, silent communication before she once again, turned to Aglarelen. She reached across and touched the Crown Prince's face, wiping away the lone tear he could not hold back. Her touch was as soft as a rose petal. "We will find him, and when we do, we will do what we can for him."

Aglarelen nodded, but he had noticed that she had not claimed to be able to cure his brother. They continued on in silence, and Aglarelen found himself wondering in what condition they might find those they pursued.

**

Elladan glanced surreptitiously at his younger brother. Elrohir seemed well enough, though from time to time, he placed a heavy hand upon his head. Whatever had struck them had been potent. He took note also of Glorfindel and Aglarelen. 

Both seemed to be regaining their senses, though neither was as recovered as Elladan and Elrohir. 

He turned again to Elrohir, who now was watching him. "Are you well, Elrohir?"

"I am better, though I would not call it 'well'." He looked at Elladan and gestured slightly toward their grandparents. "What do you think has happened?"

Elladan considered the words. "I think we had best find them before we concern ourselves with that." He softened the words with a smile, and was relieved when Elrohir returned it.

They continued to ride in silence, but Elladan soon rode ahead to speak to Celeborn. "Can you see what has happened to them?"

  
Celeborn did not smile, though his eyes twinkled at the presumption in his eldest grandson's question. "I know little more than you, Elladan, but our search will continue."

Elladan tried to dispel his own unease. "They should have woken us to go with them." His whisper would not have been heard by anyone but Celeborn.

"Are you so certain he did not try?" Celeborn asked.

The question caught Elladan off guard. He had not considered that his father might have been unable to wake them. He had had little trouble waking Elrohir. Of course, there may have been some reason behind that. Perhaps the spell lasted only a short time. Perhaps the one who had cast it had been drained of power or had been unable to maintain it longer. Perhaps they did not need to maintain it because they had gotten what they wanted. That last thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he sought to distract himself from such things. 

He thought then of Legolas. He had all but forgotten their quest so consumed was he with worry for Aragorn and Elrond. He glanced at Celeborn. "You cannot do it can you?"

Celeborn did not bother to look at his grandson, and somehow he knew precisely what the younger elf meant by his question. "We have not even seen Legolas. How can we tell what has been done to him and whether or not we might undo it?"

Elladan did not let go. "You have never heard of such a thing, then?"

Celeborn looked reluctantly at Elladan. "Aside from Luthien, Elros, and, one day, those of Elrond's children who will make such a choice" He stopped and looked pointedly at Elladan. "No, I have not heard of an elf who became mortal, let alone human."

Elladan sighed, an unelven reply he had learned from his youngest brother. It was the only response that seemed to fit the circumstances. "We will find them. They will be well, and between the two of you, Gandalf, and Ada, you will find a way to reverse this." He tried not to let it bother him that Celeborn did not reply.

**

Elrohir watched his brother urge his horse forward so that he might speak with Celeborn. He knew what Elladan would ask, but dared not seek that answer himself. He preferred to wait until they found all who were missing. 

He had not lied to his brother. He was feeling better, but had felt, since wakening, a strange feeling as if he were running at a slightly different speed than everyone else. It was an odd sensation, and one he would have spoken to Elladan about, but he had not thought to do it until his brother had rode ahead. 

In itself, that was odd, for never before had he given much thought to things he needed to discuss with Elladan. He simply spoke of them. He glanced at Glorfindel and then at Aglarelen, who both seemed lost in thought. It was as he watched Aglarelen that Galadriel motioned for the Crown Prince of Mirkwood to join her. 

He had watched Aglarelen as he had spoken in hushed tones to Galadriel. He guessed they had discussed Legolas' condition, and he saw in the eyes of his grandparents the same bewildered look he'd seen on his father's face all those months ago in Rivendell. 

They would not know. They would not be able to save him. It could not be so! How could they face King Thranduil with such news?

He turned towards Glorfindel, who rode alone, and opened his mouth to ask the older elf if he felt any more or less certain about Legolas than before they had left on this trip. Before he could speak, Glorfindel looked upon the youngest of the twins with a sad, strange expression in his eyes. "I wish I had such knowledge, Elrohir. We must"

"I know. Find Legolas first." Elrohir added silently, _and Ada, and Estel_. That his father and young brother were also missingthat they faced some danger that had called Galadriel. Celeborn, and Gandalf to ride in frantic haste across Middle-earththe mere idea sent shivers down his spine.

Gorfindel merely nodded and the two rode on in silence.

**

Glorfindel felt distinctly unwell. Except for the fact that he had suffered no injury, he would have assumed he had been in a fierce battle the night beforeand yet, that was not entirely accurate. He kept pace with the other elves effortlessly, and he was still alert enough to watch their surroundings for he unwanted presence of orcs, wargs, or worse.

He was heartened by the arrival of Celeborn and Galadriel. The twins had told him about Gandalf's sudden arrival and hasty departure, and what the Istar had said about them coming along behind him, but until he had seen them and their guard, led by Haldir, he worried that they would not come soon enough. Soon enough for what he couldn't say, but he'd been sure they were on borrowed time.

He could not help but wish that he had awakened when Elrond had. That his friend, the Lord of Imladris, had ventured into danger with just his son and Legolas by his side worried him perhaps more than it should. He knew Elrond was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but he worried anyway. He knew how much the Elf Lord loved his adopted son. He knew that, even though he called the boy Estel and told him he was the Hope of Men, that Elrond was loathe to lose the boy, and was often brutally reminded of his third son's mortality. The idea that Aragorn would one day follow his destiny and leave his father's care haunted the Elf Lord. Of course, knowing that Aragorn and Arwen were deeply in love and that when he lost his son, he would also lose his daughter, was too devastating for the Elf Lord to contemplate.

Elrond's worry could easily drive him to drastic measures. He had seen what Celebrian's fate had done to Elrond, and he was not sure Elrond could lose another member of his family before their time.

He had once sat up with Elrond when he was healing one of Aragorn's many injuries. While his human son tossed and turned in a fever brought on by orc poison, Elrond had broken down. He hadn't cried, but it was sheer force of will that kept the tears standing in his eyes, unshed, unacknowledged. 

"He will recover. He was born to a purpose, Elrond," Glorfindel had said.

Elrond nodded. "He was. He carries with him the Hope or the Doom of Men, yet, knowing that grand a scale exists, that so many depend upon his choices, in the end, I cannot see anything more than the sweet child I have cared for all these long years! He is my son, Glorfindel! By a long road and through my brother's bloodline, perhaps, but he is still my own!"

  
Glorfindel sat up with his friend all that long night and well into the next before it became clear that the lad would live to see his destiny, or, at least that he would live long enough to jeopardize his life once again.

Glorfindel glanced around seeing Elladan ride forward to speak to Celeborn. In a short time, he sensed Elrohir looking at him. Turning, he saw the second son of Elrond, and knew what he would ask.

"I wish I had such knowledge, Elrohir. We must"

"I know. Find Legolas first."

Gorfindel nodded and returned his attention to the road. Seeing a cavern ahead, he knew they had found where Elrond had gone.

**

Elrond watched in stunned silence as his son was engulfed by the power of the Blue Wizard's staff. It lasted only an instant before it seemed somehow cut off, and Elrond whirled to see Gandalf as he'd rarely seen his old friend. Face alight with rage, flushed with effort, he held his staff pointing straight out towards the Blue Wizard. Energy from Gandalf's staff mingled with that of Alatar's, and to Elrond's surprise, the Blue Wizard disappeared in flame before appearing to wink out of existence all together.

Elrond stared for a moment at the triumphant Wizard before turning and racing to his son's side. Kneeling by the dazed form, he found Legolas already there. Somehow the Prince had dragged himself to his friend's side. A short distance to be sure, but to the trained eyes of a healer, it seemed a feat he should not have been able to accomplish.

Considering the look on the Prince's face, mouth hanging open as if in shock, and eyes bright with pain, or fever, or perhaps something else entirely, Elrond moved to place a hand on his shoulder. In that moment, Legolas seemed to come back to himself and shifted slightly, as if his frame had trouble supporting his own weight. Elrond was about to say something to him, when a low groan from Aragorn drew his attention and erased all other thoughts from his mind.

"Estel? Estel, my son! Open your eyes. _Lasto beth nin! Tolo dan nan galad_!" Elrond imbued his voice with as much authority as he could, sending waves of healing power to this man who would be King.

Aragorn groaned again and blinked his eyes open. "Ada?" His voice was a whisper. "Gandalf?"

  
Elrond looked over his shoulder surprised that he had missed the sound of Gandalf's approach, but he accepted his friend's help. After a few moments, he had assessed Aragorn's injuries. A large lump on the back of his head seemed to be the source of the blood that matted his hair and stained his collar. He also sported several cracked ribs, an obvious concussion, various cuts and bruises, and these were the injuries he could readily identify. He had no idea what the force of the energy from Alatar's staff might have done to his son.

The Elf Lord quickly applied some small amount of athelas to the most severe of the injuries, and, tearing a piece of cloth from his own cloak, he bound his son's ribs. He saw that Aragorn had closed his eyes, but it seemed to be a natural sleep, so he was not concerned. It was then that he turned to Legolas.

Dried blood had painted the side of his face and some of his hair a rusty color. He held one hand at an awkward angle, and Elrond soon determined it was sprained. It was, however, the sight of Legolas' broken ankle that most horrified him. Gently he probed the bone, noting the intensity and length of each intake of breath or actual cry of pain. He tore several more pieces of his cloak and bound one around the ankle, one around the head, and one around the wrist. The head wound he had first cleaned with a bit of water before applying some athelas. 

  
The Prince's eyes were not entirely clear and Elrond continued to remind himself that he was not treating an elf. Legolas would react to pain and injury the way Aragorn did, and Elrond was sure that would extend to keeping the full extent of his injuries well hidden even from his healer. That was a trait shared by both elf and human.

Legolas didn't speak during the ordeal, and indeed, through most of it, he had stared at Aragorn with the oddest expression on his face. Elrond thought the prince might be going into shock. He turned at once toward Gandalf.

"Gandalf, we must get these two out of here."

Gandalf nodded, and, with a slightly far away look in his eye, spoke. "Yes, we should. The evil is not yet gone from this place. There may yet be threat here."

The Lord of Imladris gestured towards Legolas, who seemed unable to catch his breath, and Gandlalf moved to the elf's side. He looked Legolas over. "_Not-elf_. So this is what Alatar meant."

Elrond saw Legolas glare at Gandalf and assumed the Prince objected to the Wizard's help. Like Aragorn, Legolas seemed unwilling to admit to any infirmities. Glancing back at Aragorn, he gently lifted the Ranger into his arms. It was a sign of how poorly Aragorn felt that he did not offer more than a token protest.

The twists and turns through the cavern should have been nothing for an elven memory, but somehow, after 20 minutes, Elrond was unsure of the way. He turned to Gandalf. "_Mellonin_, the way seems long and difficult. Is it possible I have missed some turn somewhere?"

Gandalf nodded. "I had been thinking much the same myself. We should have found the entrance by now. 

He closed his eyes and Elrond felt him reach out with senses even the ancient elf could not fully understand. After a moment, he shook his head. "Something sets its will against us, shifting our perceptions somehow, or else moving stone and rock to close off the corridors we know should be here."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, frowning in concern. "Surely that cannot be possible, even with the strength of a Maia!"

"Two Maia. The Ithryn Luin are never separated. I know not what spell they may have cast to protect this place until they could accomplish their task, but it was a powerful one. I will try to counter it as we go." He glanced to the Ranger still cradled lovingly in Elrond's arms. "How fares the boy?"

Elrond might have corrected Gandalf for calling Aragorn a boy, for he knew how fiercely his young son hated that, but his concern for the again unconscious human grew by the moment not permitting him to joke about anything.

"He is hurtstunned I suppose by the staff. He is also greatly fatigued. I can only guess what might have happened to the pair of them before we arrive." 

  
Gandalf grunted. "I can only imagine what might have happened had we not arrived."

Elrond did not like to consider such things. He gestured down the corridor they had been walking, and they started off again. 

  
Legolas, Elrond noted, had been uncharacteristically quiet. He hadn't asked after Aragorn's health, nor had he suggested which corridor they should follow seeming content enough to move slowly, half-carried, by the Wizard and led by the Elf Lord who carried his best friend as though he were no more than a child. Concern for the Prince, especially since his elven healing abilities were a thing of the past, Elrond decided to call a halt after another ten minutes.

"Mithrandir, we should rest." He gestured with a slight tilt of his head to Aragorn and then to Legolas. "I should check their injuries." He broke off the plea as Gandalf nodded and helped Legolas ease himself down against the wall. 

  
Elrond placed Aragorn, who was again stirring as though about to come awake, down beside the young prince. He watched as his son blinked several times, seeming to have trouble focusing on his surroundings. It took some time and coaxing, but soon the young man seemed to become aware of his surroundings. "Ada?" He croaked, his throat parched.

  
Elrond supported his head offering some water. When he'd swallowed, he glanced nervously around his father's shoulder as though looking for something. "Ada, Legolas was injured"

"I know. We have him." Elrond spoke to his son in soft tones, asking him about his injuries and trying to determine if he'd missed anything. When he was sure Aragorn was as comfortable as he could make him, he turned towards Gandalf who was tending to Legolas. He didn't miss the fact that Aragorn, though dazed by the what energies he'd absorbed, followed his father with his eyes, concern for Legolas plain upon his face.

"How is he?" Elrond asked Gandalf.

"He is dehydrated and in much pain, though he won't admit it." He smiled at the young prince, though Legolas did not respond. A vacant expression lingered on his face.

Elrond, worried that the prince could be in shock, gave him more water and checked the wrappings on ankle, head, and wrist. It was, of course, too soon to see progress, but Elrond had not expected him to get worse. Truly, Legolas' ashen face and the expression of queasiness and pain that he wore concerned the Elf Lord. He was about to ask Legolas how he was when Gandalf gestured for him to step a short distance away. 

  
When they were out of earshot of the injured pair, Gandalf asked his questions. "What has happened to the Greenleaf?"

Elrond knew immediately to what the Wizard referred. "He has been stricken withhe had become human."

  
"I can see that!" He sighed, reining in his impatience. "Forgive me, Lord Elrond. I have ridden hard and fast to find you, though I did not know at the time that it was you I sought. Tell me everything. Why were you on this journey?"

Lord Elrond sighed and began the tale. It was a long one, and Elrond was surprised himself how long ago it had been that Legolas had arrived at Rivendell with this malady. When he had finished, Gandalf did not speak. Elrond waited, knowing the Istar needed time to take in all that he had learned. 

The Wizard drew in a breath. "Something is not right, my friend. I do not know how such a spell could be possible. I can only assume that the Ithryn Luin were behind this, for they were certainly involved in this latest event. They lured Aragorn here. Of that much I am most certain."

"What of Legolas?"

Gandalf smiled a small smile. "You don't think Legolas would simply allow Aragorn to venture off without him, do you? Not at all! The Greenleaf followed or was taken at the same time as Aragorn." The smile faded as he looked down at the two. "Come, if you feel they may move, we must go. Elf or no, they will do well to feel the sunlight upon them."

Elrond nodded sensing there was something Gandalf was not telling him, though it would hardly be the first time that had happened. 

A moment later, Wizard and Elf turned to their two young charges, startled at what they heard.

**

Aragorn had been stunned by the impact of the wizard's final blow. The energies this Alatar had unleashed upon the Ranger had been fearsome indeed, but, luckily, something had interrupted the flow of power. Aragorn did not remember falling, but he did recall looking up into the concerned face of Legolas.

"Estel! Estel!" The prince said little else, and Aragorn nodded to indicate he was well. At least he meant to nod. The pain in his head was overwhelming. The pounding, the aching, the throbbing almost blinded him. 

Forcing his attention to remain on his friend, Aragorn swallowed as he tried to ascertain his friend's condition. "Legolas, are you"

  
Legolas laughed, though it seemed to be more in relief than in joy. "Aragorn! Tell me you are not lying here half dead and asking after my own injuries!"

Aragorn permitted a sheepish grin, but it lasted only a moment. The pain in his head struck him again with an intensity he could not have expected. It was as though a metal rod had pierced skull and brain. It lasted only a moment, but its intensity robbed him of his breath.

Legolas leaned closer. Aragorn could feel his friend's presence as he knelt beside him. The Ranger could well imagine his friend's appearance, and he heard an urgency in his cry of "Estel!", but Aragorn forced himself to take several deep breaths before once again opening his eyes. He saw Legolas, as he'd expected, but his worry seemed to have turned to fear. 

  
"I am well, Legolas! It lasted but a moment!" He tried to reassure his friend, and he saw a faint smile on Legolas' face, though he seemed preternaturally pale. Aragorn saw at once the blood on the side of Legolas' head and assumed the head injury had caught up with him. "Legolas, be still! You do not look well."

  
Legolas opened his mouth to reply, at that precise moment, the pain in Aragorn's head returned, just as it had before–a sharp metal rod piercing skull and brain. It lasted a heartbeat longer than the last time, but then vanished leaving Aragorn wondering if he'd imagined it. He closed his eyes as it hit, and that was when he heard his father's voice. "Estel! Estel, my son! Open your eyes. _Lasto beth nin! Tolo dan nan galad_!"

Aragorn allowed the elvish words to soothe his soul and blinked his eyes open to see his father, with Gandalf just over his shoulder "Ada? Gandalf?"

  
Elrond quickly set to tending his injuries. Aragorn wanted to tell him to look first to Legolas, but what strength he had seemed to leave him. He slipped into unconsciousness.

It was some time later before Aragorn awoke. His dreams had been a torment of blue robes and biting winds, but when he opened his eyes, he saw the comforting sight of his father still tending to him. 

  
He heard Elrond calling to him, though he desperately wished to ignore it and sleep. Forcing himself to listen to this voice that had always comforted him, he opened his eyes. "Ada?" He croaked, his throat parched.

  
Elrond supported his head and gave him some water. He took what was offered, and when he finished, he tried to look around, though his head resisted such movement. "Ada, Legolas was injured"

"I know. We have him."

  
Aragorn's relief lessened his own pain as he loosened tightened muscles and relaxed as much as he could, given the circumstances. 

"Aragorn, where do you hurt? Have I missed some injury?" Elrond's voice was laced with concern.

  
"Nay, Ada, you have missed nothing. My head is beginning to feel better." He held his father's hand, squeezing it in gratitude, and then released it to allow the healer to work. He tried not to wince or groan whenever Elrond's hands touched a particularly sore spot, but he could tell that such subterfuge did him no good. Lord Elrond knew him too well.

When his father finally finished, he watched carefully as Elrond moved off to talk to Gandalf. He could hear only some of their words, and Aragorn strained to make sense of what he heard. His heart caught in his throat as he realized what they said was true. He had been the target of the Ithryn Luin. Legolas had followed. Hadn't Legolas said something like that to him? No. No, he had said merely that they were lost in a cave with little chance of outside help. Still, the implication was there, for Legolas would never choose to enter a cave except under the most dire circumstances. Usually, when they did end up in a cave, it was Aragorn who led them there. 

Feeling the beginnings of guilt growing within his heart, Aragorn looked towards his friend, hoping the injuries weren't more serious than he could remember.

Legolas was pale, silent, and still. Aragorn knew his ankle pained him greatly. This was his first broken bone since he'd lost his elven nature. Aragorn's eyes took in every muscle twitch and every breath. Legolas' eyes were clenched tightly shut as though he, too, fought a fierce headache. His hands trembled slightly, though whether in pain, fatigue, or for some other reason, he could not say. 

He watched carefully and was surprised when Legolas, who'd been stone still one moment, rose suddenly to his hands and knees, and, eyes still clenched shut, raised one hand and shoved a finger down his throat until he gagged. Startled by the sight of such a thing, Aragorn sat up to offer help, but he sat too quickly. His head throbbed and a wave of dizziness washed over him. The cavern spun around him until his equilibrium was shattered. He put a hand to his temple in a feeble attempt to hold his head tight upon his shoulders. For a moment he'd thought it might pop off and roll away.

Aragorn forced himself to take a deep breath, and, though the dizziness did not dissipate entirely, he found it more manageable.

He heard Elrond and Gandalf come running to Legolas' side moments before they came into view. Elrond supported Legolas, who had released nothing from his stomach. Dry heaves shook his now fragile looking, battered frame. The strangeness of the situation seemed enough of an ordeal without the actual regurgitation. Legolas' back arched as his stomach attempted to set itself right. His eyes, in contrast to moments before, were wide open, and, looking into them, Aragorn saw a helplessness he had never associated with the elf. Elf. He should not think of him as such, yet how could he not? 

Legolas had raised a hand off the ground and clutched fiercely to Elrond's arm, but the longer the heaving went on, the less strength Legolas seemed to have. He leaned heavily on Elrond and Gandalf, half-slumping into their supportive arms, and half fighting to maintain control of himself.

When his body had exhausted itself, Legolas fell against Elrond fighting for breath. Aragorn could see the sweat pouring down Legolas' face, and the Ranger glanced at his father checking for some sign as to what was wrong with his friend.

  
Elrond, however, looked to Gandalf who shook his head slightly. Then the Wizard, kneeling by the prince, placed a hand on his forehead.

Aragorn stared, unblinking, at the spectacle before him. He felt both helpless and useless. He could do little to helpNo. He could do _nothing_ to help. He had led Legolas to this. They were supposed to be journeying to Lothlorien to find aid for his friend, but instead, Aragorn's presence had put the ailing elf in harm's way. Once again, his friend had followed him into danger. How many times could he permit such a thing? A determined set to his jaw, Aragorn vowed this would be the last.

To Be Continued

TrinityTheSheDevil: Oops! Sorry! Everyone can than Trinity for prompting this quick update since her camping on my doorstep was quite an incentive! (Especially considering all the ice and snow out there! Trinity, do you need me to send Elrond over to check for frostbite?) I'm glad you like the story. This is slightly less of a cliffie, isn't it?

Catherinexxix: Thanks! I'm glad you like the action. I'm always a little cautious about writing action sequences because I think they're my weak point. Everyone seems to love what Elrond's done, so I guess the caution helped! I'm extraordinarily flattered that you think "the action has become a vehicle to showcase the developing relationships of these characters." I'll try to keep up the quick updating. (Though I may have to update my POTC story next. I've kept Will and Jack waiting for a while!)

Leggylover03: Ooh! You and Catherinexxix were both blown away! I hope you both recover enough to read this chapter! I hope this cliffie wasn't as bad! Come back for the next chapter. I'll try to write it quickly!

Gwyn: Sorry. I've joined Cliffie's Anonymous, but I still need a lot of help breaking the habit. I hope this one wasn't as bad!

Sirithiliel: Well, just wait. More Legolas coming soon! 

  
Templa Otema: I'm glad you liked Thranduil. I wasn't sure about including that because I thought it was too much a break in the action, but in the end I did include it because it's the kind of thing I love to read myself. I'm also glad you liked (and noticed!) that it linked back to Legolas' POV. More Thranduil to come!

Isadora2: Wow! Thanks! I'm thrilled that you liked that device of retelling each event from a different point of view and adding a bit each time. I really enjoyed writing it that way. I'm glad you've been enjoying this story. Hugs and greetings back to Germany from the USA!

Grumpy: I love to see Elrond and Gandalf kick butt myself. I suppose that's why I wrote it! They are such great characters. Your Ranger isn't doing too well right now, is he? 

Deana: I hope you like this one, too. More to come soon!

  
Strider's Girl: There was a lot of Aragorn pain and angst in this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! This was a fairly quick update. I hope I can keep it up.

Tychen: I think a lot of the readers would like to go and help them! I know I would! Thranduil was fun to write. I will post more as quickly as possible!

Silvertoekee: Thanks! Yeah, Vilya is mentioned as "the mightiest of the three" in the books, and I figured seeing Aragorn in that condition would be enough to make Elrond want to use it. Though he did, of course, show some restraint. (Otherwise there would have been a lot more trouble!

White Wolf1: Yes, that's why I used Celeborn like that. I think he's an intriguing character all on his own, yet Galadriel seems to overshadow him. I'd have done that with Legolas trying to take the blow himself, but I have something else in mind for Legolas. (Cue evil laughter.) 

  
Estelreader: Thank you! I try to maintain a careful balance between action and emotion because I think without the relationships there's little point to any of this. Aragorn was a little surprised, wasn't he? His protective nature kicked in just then, and, as you can see by this chapter, the guilt (and angst!) is not far behind! No! Don't get therapy! Just read fanfiction! 

  
Fire Eagle: You're not alone! A lot of people liked that Thranduil bit I included. I intended to put more Thranduil in this chapter, but things got away from me. More coming soon! Not to mention that Celeborn, Galadriel, et al, have finally reached the cave!

Elven Kitten: I'll keep writing! Please keep reading and reviewing! I hope you liked this one!


	15. part 15

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 15

By Ecri

Legolas did not know how long he had screamed. The sight of Aragorn struggling against the hold of Alatar's blow stunned the Prince, and it wasn't until the blow was interrupted that Legolas abruptly cut off his cry. Gandalf unleashed his own energy upon the Blue Wizard surprising Legolas with the power of the blow. He had known Gandalf for a long time, especially as Aragorn would reckon such things, and he sometimes forgot the power of a Maia was masked behind the façade of a kindly old man. 

Turning to his friend, Legolas moved to Aragorn's side. It was slow going, as he could not rise to his feet. On his knees, carefully trying to suspend his broken foot above the ground, and using one hand to maintain his balance–for the other was swollen and sore–he eventually reached the Ranger.

"Estel? Estel?" Legolas could say little else as his frantic eyes searched his friend's face for some sign of his condition. He reached out with his good hand, and touched Aragorn's face, tenderly wiping aside sweat and grime. Blood had stained Estel's clothing, and Legolas soon determined that it had come from a large lump at the back of his head. "Estel!" He cried again more urgently, hoping against hope that this was not as serious an injury as it looked. 

To his relief, Aragorn's eyes blinked a few times and the Ranger looked up at him, obviously trying to focus. A look of grave concern crossed the young man's face. "Legolas, are you"

Legolas laughed, though it was more in relief than in joy. "Aragorn! Tell me you are not lying here half dead and asking after my own injuries!"

Seeing Aragorn's chagrinned smile, Legolas was about to laugh, when Aragorn's eyes slammed shut. A low moan of pain escaped him as he placed a hand to his head. Fear gripped Legolas' heart. The injuries Aragorn had already sustained would have been aggravated, perhaps, by the Wizard's last attack. If anyone had ever asked him if someone could survive an attack by an enraged Istar, he would certainly have said no. Could Estel be dying? He leaned closer to Aragorn, holding himself awkwardly as his own injuries hindered his movements.

"Estel!" He cried out in desperation, as he leaned close to his friend. He saw Aragorn take in a great gulp of breath. On his friend's exhale, he closed his own eyes, slightly relieved that his friend was still breathing. The relief barely registered with him when he realized he had inhaled something. Something touched the back of his throat, like dust on a hard, dry road. He tried to clear his throat. The feeling did not dissipate, and Legolas, having expelled as much air as possible, inhaled again.

It was then that he felt it. An odd sensation to be sure. First touching the back of his throat, but then it seemed so much more. It was as if something moved through his body. Like the feeling of drinking cool, clean water after hot, thirsty work when you can feel the lower temperature liquid as it makes its way down your throat and into your stomach. This time, however it went to the back of his throat and then seemed to spread throughout his body. The odd coolness coursed through him, but settled most securely at the back of his throat where he had first noticed it. Clearing his throat did nothing. He knew he was sitting staring at Aragorn with his mouth hanging open, but there seemed to be little he could do about it. The sensation seemed to affect how he thought. He felt sluggish and not himself. His limbs seemed heavier and more difficult to move. 

Blinding pains in his head and heart struck him simultaneously, though he could not bring his body to respond. He heard a voice. It spoke to him in a menacing tone, and Legolas felt trapped within its power. It was then that Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, understood the meaning of fear.

_I would not have chosen you, Not-Elf! For I would spend eternity tormenting the Ranger! Mordor wants him! The Eye seeks him! In death I could have succeeded even where I'd failed in life! Ah, but the Ranger is weak! He dies!_

Legolas looked at Aragorn suddenly desperate to see his friend and label such words false just as the presence in his mind made a sound like a sharp intake of breath.

It was then the pain left the elf, and the odd sensation dissipated. Aragorn's words reached him, and he realized his stillness had been mistaken for concern or fear. 

"I am well, Legolas! It lasted but a moment!"

Legolas offered a tentative smile, but in that moment the sensation returned. This time it seemed much worse.

He thought he heard Aragorn as he spoke in fear. "Legolas, be still! You do not look well." Whatever Aragorn said, however, he could make no sense of the words. The strange coolness had spread more quickly than the last time. 

  
Legolas had barely noticed Elrond fussing over Aragorn, and, when the Elf Lord looked him over, Legolas found he could not speak. He found he had not the energy to ask the many questions–mostly about Aragorn's condition–that rattled around in his head.

He did notice one hot tear as it left his eye, and nothing else reached him. He felt the pain, especially as Elrond bound his ankle, but it seemed different. At moments, twice as intense as it had been, and at other moments, as though the injured, heavy limb was not his own.

__

What are you? His thoughts screamed at the voice as it told him how it had not been able to gain a foothold in Aragorn's mind. Something had prevented the disembodied voice from tormenting the Ranger, so it had returned to the Prince. Perhaps Aragorn was dying. Fear spiked in his heart at such a thought. 

He heard laughter. Maniacal. Evil. It was when the voice identified itself that it all made sense. _I am Alatar! The First of the Blue Wizards! Hapless little not-elf! You came too close to the Ranger. When I could not take him, my spirit fled to find some other hold. To be trapped in the soul that took Pallando's life_Alatar paused. _Perhaps this is better._ It whispered, though Legolas heard it just as clearly. It was more a shift in tone than volume. _I will torment youand you will take the Ranger's lifeif nothing else, I will rob him of the last moments of his life! Then I can use you to spy upon the elves! Mordor will know all that the Prince of Mirkwood can glean about Middle-earth's hope to keep Sauron down!_ _I will fulfill my purpose! Sauron will have his victory!_

Legolas was aware of Gandalf as the Wizard helped him to rise. _Ai! Mithrandir! Help me! _ His mind pleaded even as Alatar's laughter bubbled through his mind. 

__

He cannot help you, Not-Elf!

Legolas ignored the words. He tried again and again to break the hold this voice had on him, horrified at times when, as it seemed to learn to control him, it would force him to stumble, or intensify his pain. He knew it was only a matter of time before Alatar gained the strength to make him raise his weapons against his friends. He might be the instrument of Aragorn's death, or of Mithrandir's. His heart skipped a beat. Alatar might try to use him to kill his father, or his brother! 

He imagined being unable to restrain himself from delivering a fatal blow to either of them, and, as he heard Alatar's evil laugh, he wondered if those images had been planted in his mind by Alatar himself. Could he trust any thought he had? Could he tell the difference between himself and Alatar, or, over time, would such distinctions blur until, just as he was Not-Elf, he would be Not-Legolas? Not-Alatar? Would he be nothing but some strange combination of himself and the other?

He lost track of everything around him. It was as though he were a passenger inside himself and Alatar was in command. Soon, he felt Gandalf ease him to the ground, though could not say how far they had traveled. 

__

I will have you, Not-Elf! I grow stronger by the moment. There is nothing you can do unless I allow it! 

Legolas, tired of the torment by now, concentrated all of his effort on proving Alatar wrong. _I will never do your bidding! Least of all if you bid me hurt my friends!_

After what felt like forever, he thought he felt a muscle twitch in the arm he'd tried to move. Forcing back any feeling of triumph in case Alatar could sense it somehow, he concentrated on movement that might rid him of this malevolent presence. In moments, he had somehow regained himself. Thinking for some reason of the way he'd felt, and how he'd assumed Alatar had entered him, he thought the only way he might remove the spirit Wizard was by force. 

In a sudden and completely successful move, he threw himself to his knees and one hand. He raised the other and forced it violently down his own throat hoping somehow to dislodge this enemy.

The trembling, the heavingit would be worth it if he could

The pain was intense as the Wizard held onto him seeming to hold him with claws of steel and laughing at him. _You cannot dislodge me in such a way, Not-Elf!  
_

Legolas tried again, feeling the heaving slow, he tried to force his hand down his own throat once more. That was when he felt his hand holding onto something firm. His own hand was clutched tightly around someone's arm. His back arched again as the heaves continued. A few moments more and he slumped exhausted into Elrond's and Gandalf's arms. He thought he felt a hand on his forehead, but then he knew no more.

**

King Thranduil walked more swiftly than was his wont. Dressed for riding, he'd left behind the robes of his office as he met the Captain of the Guard. The Captain fell into step beside his Sovereign and easily kept pace.

"Is all prepared?" Thranduil asked.

"Yes, My Lord. The escort is awaiting your arrival." The Captain glanced at his King.

  
Thranduil saw the look, but did not comment. He had kept his own counsel about this trip. How could he do otherwise? His slumber had been disturbed lately by dreams of his sons. He had been prepared for such a thing, but it was the waking dreams that had spurred him to action. 

  
The first had taken place mere days ago–though to Thranduil, it seemed an age. He had been eating his dinner, when he had seen, quite vividly, Aglarelen screaming. Whether he had been injured or had been screaming in outrage because of something that had befallen him or Legolas, he could not tell. The vision had remained with him. When it had happened a second time, he had tried to discern more information, but he could not. He saw very little. His son's surroundings were a blur. 

That he had not seen Legolas at all troubled him deeply, but if it had not been for the vision he'd seen last night, he might not have reacted by gathering his warriors and embarking on this journey. Just after his evening meal, he'd retired to his rooms only to see Aglarelen once more. This time, he saw a defiance in his son's eyes, and his sword, drawn and ready, dripped blood 

Thranduil knew the journey his son's had undertaken to Lothlorien could hold some danger. Travel anywhere in Middle-earth was hardly safe these days. It was impossible, however, to ignore this vision in light of the fact that he had heard his Greenleaf call to him as well. 

He would ride. He would ride hard. Perhaps he would be too late to offer much help, but even if there was naught he could do but hold his sons as they breathed their last, that was what he would do.

He reached the courtyard where his Guard had gathered to wait for him. One warrior stood slightly apart holding Thranduil's horse, which waited impatiently. Thranduil slipped easily onto the animal's bare back, and after whispering a word or two in his mount's ear, turned to his Guard and signaled for them to ride. As he left the palace grounds, his mind held but one thought. _I am coming, my sons._

**

Glorfindel and Haldir walked side by side in the lead, having refused to allow Celeborn and Galadriel to enter the dark, forbidding cavern first. The horses had been left outside with a small guard who had been ordered to set up a small comfortable camp and prepare water, food, and medicines to receive wounded. 

Haldir had ordered some of his warriors to walk close to the Lord and Lady, and, the deeper the moved into the cave, the more he knew it was necessary. A forbidding presence permeated the very air, and Haldir found himself twice as alert in response. They knew little about what they would face. Elladan and Elrohir had told them of Gandalf's quick departure in pursuit of Lord Elrond, Aragorn, and Legolas. Galadriel and Celeborn believed the danger they had been chasing centered around this trio, but Haldir could tell, from long experience with the Lady, that there was more that she knew.

Haldir caught the line of sight of the archer who stood closest to the Lady, the two traded hand signals with the ease of long experience. The short exchange would be meaningless to any observer who was not a warrior from Lorthlorien, but it was a reassuring exchange to Haldir. The Lord and Lady, whether they would have it so or not, would be protected with the lives of every warrior present.

They walked a short distance more before Galadriel's steps slowed to a halt. The Lady turned to her husband. "They are close, butdanger lingers."

  
Celeborn nodded, and looked to Haldir. Haldir turned to Glorfindel. He would defer to the most revered of warriors–the Balrog Slayer–if he felt he could direct this group more efficiently, but Glorfindel merely acknowledged Haldir's gesture and indicated he should continue as he saw fit. Heartened by the vote of confidence, he and the Guard moved quickly and silently through the cavern still searching for their friends.

**

Celeborn spoke in hushed tones to his wife. "Have you any sense that they are well?"

Galadriel considered her words carefully as she always did when discussing visions and foresight. She looked at him then, sadness in her eyes that touched her soul. "There is danger. More than that I cannot tell."

Celeborn nodded. He had not truly expected there would be more. Foresight was often less specific that would be helpful, and his wife, the most prescient of elves he had known, was always careful about discussing it. 

He watched his wife as they continued through the cavern. So intent was he on this self-appointed task, that he almost missed the sound. The only light within was what they themselves carried. He carried one torch himself, Prince Aglarelen carried another, and several of the other elves carried enough so that the darkness did not overwhelm them. By the light, he examined the surroundings as well as he could, but he could find nothing that might have made the sound. 

They continued to walk, and as they did, he noticed that Haldir was giving signals to the others. He had heard the sound as well. He was about to speak to Haldir when the sound repeated louder. Galadriel stopped walking. Her eyes widened, though she gave no other indication that anything had happened.

Celeborn took a step closer to her side and eased his sword from its scabbard. 

Galadriel closed her eyes, and Celeborn waited for some word from her, silent or spoken, that she could identify what they'd heard. He did not wait long. Her eyes snapped open, and she put out a hand to clasp his arm knowing instinctively where he was though she had not looked for him.

"He is here."

  
"Who?" Celeborn kept his voice as soft as hers had been.

"He comes. The Wizard" 

When she broke off, Celeborn could not keep silent. "Gandalf?"

"Nay. Not The Gray."

  
"Who then? The Brown? The White? The Blue?"

"I sense but one. He is nearby." She gestured to the left, and the group moved on a few feet noticing that a passage branched in that direction. 

Celeborn looked his wife in the eye.

She nodded. "We must go that way."

The group took that passage with Galadriel urging caution. The warriors kept their weapons at the ready and Celeborn stretched his acute senses to their limits hoping for some sign of what his wife had seen.

They'd been walking very long indeed when he saw a slight glow in the distance as of a torch being held in a trembling hand. He pointed this out, unnecessarily, to the others, and they moved quickly and quietly to find the source of such light.

The closer they came, the more they heard. Sounds, as of a creature in great pain, reached their sensitive ears. Celeborn halted them when a particularly loud, soul-shattering sound reached them. 

  
Without warning, orcs surged through the passage where the light originated. Backlit against the flickering glow, the dark creatures bellowed their anger at having found so many of the Firstborn among them. Bloodlust for the beings they considered their greatest enemies upon them, they threw themselves at the elven warriors 

Celeborn had no need to issue many orders. All present knew the need. Kill or be killed. Celeborn took a step nearer to the side of his Lady, noting that Galadriel was more than holding her own against one or the foul beasts already.

He stood with his back to hers trusting Haldir would do what he could to keep her safe as well. He raised his own blue-glowing blade and sliced the air before him before the sword bit deep into the flesh of a particularly hideous orc. It still seemed to laugh, hatred obvious in its eyes, as it fell lifeless to the ground. 

The clang of blade against blade filled the narrow cavern as the elves fought. Celeborn glanced to his right to see Aglarelen lost in a battle frenzy. The Crown Prince seemed barely aware of himself so intent was he upon the orcs that stood before him. 

Celeborn's eyes were drawn away then as another of the fell creatures appeared before him. More cunning than the others, it feinted several times, drawing Celeborn's attention more and more completely into the immediate fight.

When he finally dispatched the unfortunate orc, he became aware that he no longer felt his wife's presence at his back. Turning, he saw Galadriel, Aglarelen, and one of his grandsons racing ahead through the corridor to the left.

He had not time to ponder their destination as he once again came face to face with the grim ghouls of Mordor.

**

Aglarelen fought as he often had in Mirkwood. The forest he had loved and protected all his long life had become darker and more dangerous in these later years. To his great regret, he often doubted Legolas could recall the time when Mirkwood had been Greenwood the Great. No warrior of Mirkwood was inexperienced when it came to fighting orcs, spiders, or even the occasional warg.

When he'd first realized the orcs were approaching, he'd known the Lord Celeborn's first impulse would be to protect Galadriel. He recalled seeing his own father and mother once fight in much the same way: Back to back, swords in hand. It was a memory he had once hoped his youngest brother would never experience, though through the lightening of Mirkwood–a beating back of the encroaching darkness–rather than through the death of their dear Naneth. 

Raising his sword, Aglarelen parried blow after blow as the orcs pressed the advantage of their greater numbers. Their delight at having caught the elves mingled with their inherent hatred for them, and the orcs fought as though possessed. 

Aglarelen saw Haldir dispatch several before going to Glorfindel's aid. The older Elf seemed slightly dazed, as did Elrohir. He and Elladan stood also back to back as their grandparents did, but Elrohir's usual sharp, graceful movements seemed slightly slower than normal. Certainly they were slightly slower than Elladan's. Aglarelen had little time to ponder such a thing as the press of orcs increased. They flooded the cavern with their hideous cries, which echoed off the walls making them seem greater in number than the dozens the elves already faced.

In a move born of instinct and experience, Aglarelen brought his sword up and over with his right hand, even as his left fist swung out to the opposite side, smashing into one orc who'd apparently thought he could take the Crown Prince unawares. Perhaps assuming, wrongly, that the darkness of the cavern would hinder Aglarelen's peripheral vision, the look on his face as Aglarelen smashed into it was frozen for an instant in gleeful anticipation.

The battle wore on, and the elves, greatly outnumbered, sought some way to bring it to an end. Aglarelen was startled then by a gentle touch on his arm. Turning his head, he saw Galadriel, a grave look of concern on her face. As she spoke, the fight, the darkness, the orcs and even the other elves, faded from his notice.

"The Greenleaf is in need of your help, Aglarelen. Go to him."

  
Aglarelen felt despair in his heart. "How? I know not where he is!"

The Lady merely took his hand and moved with a new speed and purpose through the dark corridors ignoring the fight that raged on around her.

  
Aglarelen followed so closely that a few times, he seemed to be overtaking her. Frantic with fear for his brother, he could only hope they would reach him soon. He glanced at Galadriel from time to time as they raced through the cavern, but he dared not ask what she had seen. He whispered a prayer to Iluvater, and then added, as though his brother might somehow hear him, "Hold on, my brother. I am coming for you." 

**

Galadriel saw her husband stop in his advance down the corridor and, following his gaze, knew moments before he did what had come. She took her position at his back, sword raised, eyes full of their usual grace and sorrow, but now touched by determination. She had fought orcs before and knew she would fight them again. She had long believed it unlikely that she would ever be free of the possibility of such a fight so long as she remained in Middle-earth.

She saw, though only her subconscious was aware, her husband as his powerful arm sliced his elven blade through the neck of one large orc. Its decapitated head flew from its body with such force that her elven hearing recognized the sickening splat of it hitting the wall. Celeborn continued to fight, as did they all.

  
She turned once toward Aglarelen when her own immediate foes had been dispatched as messily as had her husband's and saw the Crown Prince smash his fist into the face of one orc, who, befuddled by the blow, slipped unconscious to the ground.

Turning aside, she saw her grandsons. Elladan had somehow managed to maneuver Elrohir so that, for a moment, though they stood back to back, Elrohir faced no opponent. He was instead allowed a moment's respite as he found the fell creatures beyond his reach.

She knew they would look after each other, and was gladdened by the thought, but it was concern for them as well as for Arwen that distracted her long enough so that she could whisper a simple prayer that they would find Elrond alive and well. 

Raising her blade once more, she felt her limbs stop in mid swing. There was a cry for help! She had heard it clearly. Great danger, and the presence of evil made her shudder. The voice was young, but not elven. Still, the timbre and tone of that voice seemed almost familiar. Almost. Taking a great risk, she glanced around, noting the position of each orc before closing her eyes. It took but a second to find the cry again. The voice was different, but the same. The heart that called for help likely did not realize its cry could be heard. It was Legolas. The young prince's voice sounded more human than it should, but the Lady of the Wood had expected that after what Aglarelen had said. Thoughts of the Crown Prince forced Galadriel to seek Aglarelen with her eyes. Finding him, like herself, momentarily without an opponent, she moved with haste to his side and placed a hand gently upon his arm.

"The Greenleaf is in need of your help, Aglarelen. Go to him."

  
She saw despair blossom in his eyes and knew his greatest fear was to Legolas–especially through his own inability to protect his younger brother. "How? I know not where he is!"

The Lady wanted nothing more than to stay by her husband and grandsons while this battle yet raged, but she knew, somehow–though she had not before–how to find the young prince. She would take Aglarelen to his brother, and perhaps then, the two of them could offer aid against this evil she'd sensed.

Grasping his hand, she moved swiftly through the cavern, her own elven light growing stronger as they moved through the darkness.

To Be Continued

  
TrinityTheSheDevil: Here's the next chapter! Elrond will be right over once he's sure Aragorn is okayI guess that might take awhile. I have the next chapter moving right along, so I'll try to get that posted ASAP! I promise!

Deana: Eeek! You're both gonna freeze! We're expecting some messy weather tomorrow. I've got the next chapter nearly ready! Take care out there!

Gwyn: That was purposefully vague. I intended to have the explanation in chapter 14, but it ended up being in 15. I hope all is clear now.

Elven Kitten: Absolutely! There's no way he can keep that vow. Someone's gonna have to break it to him! Angst to come!

Leggylover03: More Gandalf to come! As for Aragorn, he's not really thinking too clearly. Bump on the head and all that. Concussions fuzz your thinking. 

Silvertoekee: Yes, Elrohir and Glorfindel are not themselves. More about why to come. Aragorn will likely suffer more from his injuries. 

Templa Otema: Yes, thanks! I understood you just fine! There will be lots more about Legolas and Aragorn and their respective injuries. Evil foreshadowing is part of it in this sort of a story. (At least it is for me!)

Fire Eagle: Thanks! There's more angst to come!

Tychen: Aragorn forgets things like that. He's intent on saving Legolas physically. He doesn't keep in mind that elves can die of a broken heartof course, with Legolas not being an elf, maybe he thinks there's a way around it. 

Grumpy: As you can see, the Blue Wizards aren't exactly gone. I still haven't gotten anyone out of the tunnels though. Soon, I promise.

Catherinexxix: I'm glad this is keeping you guessing! How about now? (Hee!) Queen of Angst? Why thank you! How nice! Royalty at last! 

Sirithiliel: Fast enough? No? I thought not. More to come soon.

Cosmic Castaway: I'm glad you found the story. I have a theory that my summaries don't draw enough people to my fics. I'm working on that. I'm glad you're enjoying this. I do intend to finish it!

Strider's Girl: There is still evil lurking! Hee! I'm glad you like the descriptions and that you like how I've shown Legolas to be human. More to come! As for the cure to regain his elvishnessyou'll have to keep reading! I'd tell you what Aragorn's going to do, but that would ruin the suspense!

White Wolf1: I have trouble thinking of him as anything but an elf, too! It makes it hard to refer to him because I can't call him an elf! Yes, more soon!

Isadora2: Technical troubles are soooo irritating! Thanks for sticking with it! I'm glad you loved the chapter. I'm sticking with the alternating perspectives because the story became so much easier to tell once I did that. More soon, I promise!


	16. part 16

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 16

By Ecri

Elrohir, slightly dazed by the suddenness of the start of the battle, still had the presence of mind to stand with his brother. Together, the twins fought, taking down many of their foes. He had not made a clear count of the number of orcs they fought, but he knew they were clearly outnumbered.   
  
He saw Glorfindel as he sliced an arm off one opponent, not sparing a moment to shield his face from the spray of black blood. Glorfindel seemed winded and dazed, and, seeing that, he realized he himself felt spent. His sword seemed heavy. His limbs less under his control than he knew they should be. Could this be some residual affect from whatever had placed them all in some strange stupor? He frowned shaking his head. Elladan seemed himself, as did Aglarelen. What then could this be?

  
Speculation would have to wait, he realized, as he raised his sword almost too late to deflect a blow. Bumping into his brother's back, he used his proximity to Elladan to steady his arm. He slew one laughing orc just before it would have run him through, though the fight was neither as elegant nor as simple as it should have been.

"Elrohir? Are you well?"

He heard his brother's anxiety and struggled to reassure him. "I am tired, my brother, but I am well."

He could tell by the way his brother held himself that Elladan did not believe him. They fought on for some time. Elrohir dispatched one stubborn orc intent on taking the his head and, when he looked around for another opponent, Elrohir realized that his brother had manipulated his movements until he had no enemy before him. He saw only his elven comrades nearby, but took full advantage of the chance to rest.

It was then that he noticed Galadriel's hurried movements to Aglarelen's side. He could not hear their words over the cacophony of battle, but he watched his grandmother take Aglarelen's hand and hasten down an adjacent corridor. 

Elrohir knew he would be little help in battle, but he also knew he could not allow the Lady of the Golden Wood and The Crown Prince of Mirkwood to race off without escort no matter how capable both were with a sword. He reached his free hand to his brother's shoulder. With no more than a slight squeeze he bid farewell and raced after them.

He heard his brother call his name, but he did not pause to answer.

**

Aragorn watched as Gandalf and Elrond gently rolled Legolas over onto his back. Elrond frowned as he placed a hand to the Prince's cheek. Legolas was flushed and sweating, but quickly chilling in the damp air of the cave.

Aragorn raised himself up and tore at his own cloak. He passed it to Elrond, who took it without comment, so great was his concern for Legolas. 

  
Gandalf spoke to Elrond. "Has he been poisoned?"

Aragorn interrupted knowing they had not seen what he had. "Nay. He induced that himself."

Gandalf and Elrond turned to face him, startled. "Why?" Elrond spoke the word, but the question was written clearly across both faces.

The Ranger shook his head. "I cannot begin to guess."

Elrond leaned closer to Legolas and examined him once more. Legolas appeared to be coming around. The young prince turned in agitation. His eyes clenched tightly shut, he thrashed about unaware of what he was doing or where he was. Elrond spoke softly trying to soothe him, but Aragorn could not hear the words.

  
The Ranger turned his attention to Gandalf, but the Wizard had his own eyes closed. He had a look of intense concentration upon his features. Turning back to his father, Aragorn saw Elrond was failing in his attempt to hold Legolas still. 

Aragorn moved without hesitation to his friend's side. It was his fault, after all. He would help Legolas any way he could. He reached a hand out toward Legolas. The moment Aragorn touched his friend, the Prince's eyes snapped open. An instant later, Gandalf's did as well.

Aragorn saw confusion and fear in Legolas' face for an instant. Then, his eyes seemed to cloud, becoming unclear. In another moment, they seemed to hold a hatred that caused Aragorn to pull slightly back so shocked was he at the sight.

Something strong plowed into him from the right, pushing him painfully to the ground. To Aragorn's surprise, he saw Gandalf had done it and had then placed himself in front of his injured friend. He was about to ask Gandalf what he was doing, when the Grey Wizard began to speak in Quenya. After a few words, however, he switched to a harsher tongue, the very sound of which seemed to cause Lord Elrond pain. 

Legolas writhed before them in agony, hatred shining in his eyes, which no longer looked human. Nor did they look elven. They were black. Black pupils, black iriseseven the whites of his eyes were black. When he finally spoke, it was also in the Black Speech, but the voice was not Legolas'. It was Alatar's.

"You will not stop me, Olórin!"

"What dark purpose do you seek, Alatar? Why do you not know when you are defeated? Release your feeble hold on this young one, and face me like the wizard you should have been!" Gandalf, speaking in Westron once more, raised his staff, pointing it at Legolas.  
  
_No!_ Aragorn's mind screamed at him. _Not Legolas!_ Legolas has been_possessed_? Aragorn could not imagine what horror his friend faced, but he knew to have Alatar within him, when he had struggled so hard to hold onto some sense of self after losing his elven nature, must be the worst sort of torture.

Alatar was laughing now, the cruel harsh tones not at all like either Legolas' musical, elven laughter or like the deep, hearty laugh he had developed since he has become human. "You cannot harm this body! You are impotent against me! If you strike me, you harm only your precious prince! I will achieve my goal before you drive me out!" He paused and seemed to consider something. "Or perhaps I will win this body as well. You have cast me out of my own, and there is no reason that I should not continue!"

  
Elrond stood then, raising his own sword. "Legolas Thranduilion would rather we kill him than allow you to take him this way!" His certainty was unmistakable.

Alatar laughed again. "Likely, but could you do it? Especially if I were to tell you there is a way to cure him?"

"I know the cure!" Aragorn declared standing and taking a menacing step forward.

Alatar shook his head as though pitying Aragorn his stupidity. "I know the cure for his lost elven nature! I know how to restore him!"

Aragorn faltered then. Could he be speaking the truth? Could he know such a thing? 

Before he could reply, Gandalf spoke. "That would be likely, since you are responsible for this! Do not think to manipulate us with false hope!" 

Another flash of confusion passed Legolas' blackened eyes before Alatar spoke again. "I did not do this! It spoiled our plans! This _Not-Elf_" He spat the words as though it had been responsible for his failure. "He escaped our spell! It should have affected him! If we had known about him, we would have succeeded by now!"

Gandalf's brow furrowed, and Aragorn could not help but wonder what he was thinking. The Ranger took another step closer. "Leave him, Wizard! Leave him now, or we will kill you!"

"You will kill _him_! I am spirit without flesh! If you kill me, perhaps I will find my way into the body of someone else you care for!" He moved his, or rather, Legolas' headto look purposefully at Elrond.

"I will not allow it!" Aragorn declared, and, did not flinch even when the joyless laughter echoed again and the harsh expression twisted Legolas' fair features.

"You cannot stop it!" Alatar insisted. "I have waited long enough! I will do what I have been bidden to do!" He raised Legolas' body upwards trying to gain his feet, but he struggled. 

Aragorn would have laughed had the situation not been so dire, for Legolas body did indeed seem to become a battleground. He would get one foot beneath him and attempt to move the other, when the first would go out from under him. He would move a hand as though to steady himself against rock wall or floor, and the arm would betray him by bending at the elbow making him over balance. Spasmodic movement, ungraceful as it might have been, not only kept Alatar from achieving his unnamed purpose, but also seemed to be making him livid.

Gandalf moved then to more completely shield Aragorn from Legolas', or rather, Alatar's line of sight. Elrond moved closer to the Grey Pilgrim, effectively limiting his son's range of vision.

Frustration tore at him, but Aragorn did not want to distract either of them by arguing about what they had done. In truth, he knew he would likely do the same had he been in their position. Stepping back, he realized there was little he could do. He waited, hoping for some instruction from Gandalf or Elrond. Whatever they asked of him, he would do it without question.

***

Gandalf supported the young Prince of Mirkwood on one side and Lord Elrond on the other as Legolas' body tried to rid itself of some poison or other. 

When the Prince fell, exhausted, he and Lord Elrond gently moved him to lie upon his back.

The Wizard turned to Lord Elrond. "Has he been poisoned?" He did not think this could be so, since he had seen no evidence of poisoning, and such things rarely escaped Lord Elrond's notice. 

Aragorn's interruption surprised him, but not more than the words. "Nay. He induced that himself."

Gandalf and Elrond both turned to face him startled. 

"Why?" Elrond asked the question that Gandalf himself would have voiced.

The Ranger shook his head. "I cannot begin to guess."

Perhaps I can, Gandalf thought. Closing his eyes, the Istar looked deep into Legolas. He found first the longing within Legolas' heart that Aragorn be well. Looking deeper, he found some measure of fear, which was not surprising, given the situation, the Wizard mused. It was upon his third look that he saw it. Something foreignhad taken Legolas. The Prince was still here, of course, but there was little he could do to fight against a Maia. The strength it took him to remain awake and aware through this ordeal was more than Gandalf would have presumed he could spare right now.

Legolas was battling this evil for control of his very self, and the struggle was not one the young one intended to lose. Ferocity was a side of elven nature that few saw, but in battle, they were a most formidable foe. While Legolas was, physically, no longer an elf, his attitudes had not undergone any great change, at least as far as this instance and as far as Gandalf could detect. 

Something shifted. The Evil was coming to the forefront, somehow, pushing past Legolas' defenses. Gandalf's eyes flew open. He began to speak in Quenya, hoping to aid the struggle he perceived, but when the words were pushed aside, he knew who had won this first battle. Switching instantly to the Black Speech, something he knew Alatar would understand, he tried to sever the Wizard's connection to the Prince.

He heard Alatar's voice, and knew this fight was not over. 

"You will not stop me, Olórin!"

"What dark purpose possesses you, Alatar? Why do you not know when you are defeated? Release your feeble hold on this young one, and face me like the wizard you should have been!" Gandalf did not hesitate to point his staff at Legolas, knowing full well what Alatar would say in response.

"You cannot harm this body! You are impotent against me! If you strike me, you harm only your precious prince! I will achieve my goal before you drive me out!" Alatar stopped for a moment and seemed to be quite pleased with some new thought he was only too pleased to share with his Grey brother. "Or perhaps I will win this body as well. You have cast me out of my own, and there is no reason that I should not continue!"

  
Elrond stood then, raising his own sword. "Legolas Thranduilion would rather we kill him than allow you to take him this way!" Gandalf whispered a blessing over Elrond's words that Iluvatar give them the strength to do what must be done.

Alatar's depraved chortle seemed an abomination to Gandalf as he remembered the genuine joy Legolas often spread through his own elven laughter. 

"Likely, but could you do it?" Alatar demanded. "Especially if I were to tell you there is a way to cure him?"

"I know the cure!" Aragorn declared.

Gandalf watched Alatar closely as he spoke not only with unmistakable malice, but also with heart wrenching promise in his voice. "I know the cure for his lost elven nature! I know how to restore him!"

Gandalf did not believe the Blue Wizard would ever help them. Whatever he had planned, he would try now to betray them to their deaths. He sneered as he spoke as though Alatar was beneath contempt. "That would be likely, since you somehow did this to him! Do not think to manipulate us with false hope!" 

Alatar's confusion showed plain on Legolas' face. Gandalf saw the Maia's control over his captive body slip, and thought for a moment that Legolas would regain control for long enough that they could exorcise this demon. 

"I did not do this! It spoiled our plans! This _Not-Elf_" Gandalf noted the note of near hysteria in his voice. It was as though he would not be held responsible for this, as though he were trying to convince someone who was not there that he was innocent of such a thing. "He escaped our spell! It should have affected him! If we had known about him, we would have succeeded by now!"

Gandalf's brow furrowed. There were more questions being raised than answered here. If the Blue Wizards had not been responsible, then who could have done this? More importantly, why had they done it?

Aragorn, moved closer. "Leave him, Wizard! Leave him now, or we will kill you!"

"You will kill him! I am spirit without flesh! If you kill this body, perhaps I will find my way into the body of someone else you care for!" 

Gandalf saw Legolas' eyes flicker towards Lord Elrond, and he knew he had to protect the Elf Lord as well. 

"I will not allow it!" 

  
Gandalf barely heard Aragorn's words. He closed his eyes again, reaching out towards Legolas' soul. His _fëa_ was strong, and Gandalf would do all he could to see that it survived this horrifying ordeal.

Legolas' body had been battered, and his _fëa_ had not been left untouched. The fear of losing his own identity after he'd lost his elvishness, the outright horror at the idea of leaving his brother and the other elves behind unprotected and helpless as they suffered under some strange condition, and the worry for Aragorn as he'd trailed the human to the cave and watched as the Ithryn Luin attacked him, all was laid bare for Gandalf to see in that moment. Gandalf knew Legolas well. He had known the Prince nearly his entire life, and he knew Legolas' instincts would be to shy away from such an intimate connection, but the Prince must have sensed Gandalf's intention.

__

Two Maia, Mithrandir? Legolas' pain was evident to the Istar. He barely maintained whatever hold on himself he had managed, and the shock of having Gandalf approach so closely seemed to come close to shattering his fragile grip. _ How can I hold two within me?_ His concerns quickly turned from his own well being to the thing that worried him most. _He wills me to hurt Aragorn, but he insists that Aragorn is dying anyway! He wills me to hurt Aragorn! I cannot! Yet, he is so much stronger_ Gandalf felt Legolas attention turn from him. There was too much going on for the Prince to be able to continue such a conversation. He was an elf made mortal, not a Maia, not an Istar. What he was being asked to endure was literally tearing him apart.

Legolas was losing his battle. Gandalf could sense it. He was so afraid to be used against his friend, that he was trying–with every ounce of his being–to will himself to die. Elves can die of a broken heart, and now, his heart must have been near to breaking. Yet, he was no elf. He could not die in this manner, no matter how much he willed it.

  
_Legolas, I touch your spirit, though I do not control it, and I do not abide within your flesh. I would not do such a thing. I will help you endure this, if you allow it._

Legolas did not speak, but Gandalf could feel his acceptance just as he could feel the prince's attention was held by his desperate attempt to hold onto his own identity–to shield what he could of this contact from Alatar's casual perusal. 

Gandalf sensed Legolas was near the end of his endurance. Alatar was powerful. Legolas, worn by his battles thus far, was barely able to keep his own thoughts separate from those of The Blue Wizard.

It was then that Mithrandir heard Alatar's answer to Aragorn's words.

"You cannot stop it!" Alatar insisted. "I have waited long enough! I will do what I have been bidden to do!" 

Gandalf stepped to his right, shielding Aragorn from Alatar with his body even as his mind did the same for Legolas' _fëa_. He noted Elrond's movement, but had expected it. Maintaining his hold on Legolas, he spoke again in the Black Speech. This spell would work best in that speech for it was one Alatar had taken as his own. Gandalf could sense how far he'd fallen, and only prayed Iluvatar keep the other Istar from following the same dark path.

Raising his staff high above his head, he finished the spell. White light spread out from his staff and engulfed them all. White noise drowned out all sound. All was still as when the world was new. In that space between breaths, Gandalf faced Alatar.

**

Elrond watched in confusion. Surely he or Gandalf would have known, sensed somehow if Legolas had held that evil soul within him? He watched as the Blue Wizard twisted Legolas' fair features into expressions of hatred and anger. Legolas, though fierce in battle, was not one who angered easily. A gentle soul, he was quick to laugh, to smile. Though sometimes the sorrow of all the Eldar could find its way to his heart and from there show plainly upon his face, Legolas was not one who spat out words of death or threats.

Elrond raised his sword. "Legolas Thranduilion would rather we kill him than allow you to take him this way!"

He would have said more, but he could barely bring himself to say this much. The idea of killing Legolas was abhorrent to him. He was vaguely aware of Aragorn's own threats to thisthis creature that held Legolas' life.

"You cannot stop it!" Alatar cried. "I have waited long enough! I will do what I have been bidden to do!" 

Elrond saw Gandalf step forward even as he did so himself. Shielding Aragorn as best they could, Elrond could only hope they could rip this thing from its perch inside Legolas.

Hearing Mithrandir slip easily into the Black Speech was difficult on the Elf Lord, and he fought not to cringe or look away fearing such a distraction might endanger Aragorn, Legolas, or Gandalf.

The light was bright and blinding, but when the flash was over, Gandalf stood facing Legolas, who somehow, despite his injuries was standing. Elrond's eyes dipped to the young prince's broken foot. Still wrapped, the foot seemed no different. When Legolas took a step back away from Gandalf, Elrond saw the limp, but in another step or two, the limping ceased.

He could see it was not healed. Legolas' foot did not bend naturally. The very sight of him using it was painful to behold, and Elrond could not understand how the prince could endure it.

Legolas held out a hand towards Gandalf, but when he spoke, Elrond realized it wasn't the Prince at all. Alatar commanded this body–completely, entirely, and with no sign of Legolas' presence. Alatar–not Legolas–faced Gandalf.

Lord Elrond heard a small shout of surprise behind him, and turned to see Aragorn looking not at Gandalf as he would have expected, but towards a narrow passage carved in the stone nearby. Elrond followed his gaze, and, to his delight, saw Elrohir, Galadriel, and Aglarelen rush to Aragorn's side.

"Legolas!" Aglarelen called, as he saw his brother standing before Gandalf, but Elrond put a hand to his arm.

"Nay, Aglarelen! Your brother" Elrond paused. How to tell such news? "He is not himself." Sighing, the elven Lord explained what had happened.

Aglarelen looked stricken. Galadriel looked thoughtful.

  
Elrond turned then to Elrohir who now supported Aragorn tenderly in his arms as the two whispered softly in elvish. "Elrohir! My son, are you well? Is your brother well?"

Elrohir hesitated, but answered his father. "I left him with the others. They are battling orcs."

Elrond's heart lurched at such news. Once more, he was torn. Stay here and help Aragorn? Return where Elrohir had left Elladan? Before either option seemed clear in his mind, Galadriel spoke. Her voice was authority itself.

"Mithrandir may have need of our help, Elrond." Pointedly, she raised her handthe one that bore Nenya. She looked towards the Grey Pilgrim. "The Three Rings of Power are here joined once more. We cannot let the Blue Wizard take news of the Rings or of Estel back to Sauron. This will end here."

Elrond knew she was right. Sauron must not be allowed to reassert his hold over Middle-earth, and surely he was behind this. The Blue Wizards had turned from their true purpose and become Sauron's minions. Elrond could scarcely believe such a thing could be possible. 

He turned his attention back to Gandalf and Legand Alatar. A Wizard battle can be subtle or violent, delicate or fierce. Elrond knew Gandalf would be worried for Legolas, but he also knew that the Grey Wizard would not allow Alatar to take what knowledge he carried back to Sauron.

The air itself vibrated with energies as the two Wizards faced each other. Alatar, weaponless, seemed to have little advantage except that Gandalf might be reluctant to harm Legolas. The battle seemed at a standstill, though Gandalf's eyes were closed in concentration and unseen energy crackled around both.

Legolas' face twisted in rage and anger, making the fair features more fierce and hideous than Elrond could ever have imagined. Letting out a howl so loud the very cavern shook, Alatar flung himself–or rather, flung Legolas–bodily at Gandalf.

To Be Continued

Gwyn: Yes, he's not thinking clearly. He's just desperate to set things right!

  
Templa Otema: I love your reviews for their breathless enthusiasm! I'll keep using this technique as long as I think it's working. I'm glad you liked Thranduil. I think he's reached the point where he needs to get involved again. I'm thrilled you liked the battle there at the end. I'll be getting back to that soon.

  
Silvertoekee: Legolas just didn't know what else to do. He's tired, hurt, scared, and trying to hold on to his identity. Elrond and Gandalf are going to do their best to fix this.

Cosmic Castaway: Ouch! I meanno violence necessary! Thanks! That's a relief to know it wasn't my summaries. I try to answer any questions that I raise within the story, so, yeah, Legolas gagging didn't make sense in the chapter where it first appeared. I wouldn't leave you hanging too long, though! Thanks for the review!

  
Deana: I promise to keep the updates coming quickly! The rain has stopped, but it still looks awfully uncomfortable out there, and I don't want to lose readers that way!

  
Tychen: Gandalf and I are working on it! You're right. I've been too easy on Aragorn. More to come!

  
Catherinexxix: You're making me blush! Thanks so much. I have such love for these characters that I can't stop writing them. (Yes, your comment was clear! At least I understood it! Keep reviews coming!)

  
Strider's Girl: Aragorn isn't out of this yet! He's going to do something, I'm sure everyone suspects that much! 

Grumpy: It's getting crowded in there, isn't it? The Wizard says Aragorn is dying because that's what he thinks is happening. We'll just have to see how far my muse wants me to go with that one! I'm glad you liked the fight scene.

Chole Amethyst: My muse is getting a bit frantic to finish this, so I'm going to go along with it. Besides, I've got Trin and Deana camping on my doorstep trying to hurry me along! I'm really pleased everyone likes Thranduil so much. I am looking forward to writing the happy reunion between Legolas and Aglarelen. As for Galadriel, yes, she and the others have their work cut out for them as far as curing everyone! It's going to take some pretty powerful magic. 

Sirithiliel: Well, if you like that, I suppose this should make you happy! Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it!

White Wolf1: Thanks! Gee, everyone likes my battle scene, and I was so afraid to write it! We're probably beginning to get to the scenes where elf and ranger will have to be cured or at least they can try to cure themI supposeMy muse is leaving me as much in the dark as all of you are!

Estelreader: More injured Aragorn to come! More angst, too! I'm glad you like it, and that you think it "seems to grow in complexity and intrigue" just makes me soooo happy! How do I think of all of this? I wish I knew! I'll post again ASAP!

  
Elven Kitten: Thanks! I hope you like this chapter!

Leggylover03: Lots of Estel pain and angst to come! Telling this story is taking longer than I expected!


	17. part 17

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 17

By Ecri

Celeborn sliced through the last orc neck and watched it fall in satisfaction. There were few things in Arda to kindle the ferocity of an elf in battle as an orc-horde could do. Turning to the others, he saw who was standing, who was not, and who was missing entirely. He had felt Galadriel leave during the battle and knew that she took Elrohir and Aglarelen with her. Haldir was well, he noted with satisfaction, but upon Glrofindel's arm, he saw a great swathe of red. Instantly at the elf's side, he checked the injury.

"You are as bad as Lord Elrond, My Lord Celeborn!" Glorfindel teased the Lord of the Golden Wood. 

Celeborn smiled at the taunt. "Aye, and I would not have the Lord, my son-in-law, return to see his friend grievously wounded."

"This is not so bad an injury. I will be well."

  
Elladan came up to the two older elves. "Glorfindel, you were not well. I saw you take this blow. You seemed to slow, as though distracted."

Glorfindel nodded. "I know not what is wrong, but I seem not to have recovered from that strange sickness that afflicted us."

Elladan frowned and would have spoken had Celeborn not done so first. "My friend, we must take you to the camp." He made a sign to Haldir who came forward with two warriors. "Have Lord Glorfindel escorted to the camp. He will need rest at the least."

  
Glorfindel opened his mouth to protest, but Celeborn placed a hand upon his uninjured arm. "My friend, please do this thing. Lord Elrond seeks his son. We know there is evil within this cave, and the fewer of us who are in its path, the more might survive to help those injured." Celeborn gestured towards the cavern's depths. "Several Lords and princes wander this darkness now. Do you not think placing one out of harm's way might be prudent?"

Glorfindel nodded, though Celeborn could see he wished nothing more than to break from his grip and find the Lord of Imladris himself.

He waited as two of Haldir's archers escorted Glrofindel back the way they'd come. 

Turning towards Elladan, his eyes frantically searched his grandson.

  
Elladan smiled. "I am well. Let us find the others." He gestured down a corridor. "I saw Grandmother, Aglarelen, and Elrohir take this path."

As they walked deeper into the darkness, Celeborn sought his wife's presence. Finding it, he made no demands on it, knowing that, should she be in some life-threatening predicament, distraction was the last thing she would need.

Using the sense of her he had found as a beacon, he followed it with greater and greater confidence that he was on the right trail. It was upon finding her that he could not believe what he beheld.

**

King Thranduil moved ever more swiftly through Middle-earth, hardly pausing to issue orders to those elves who came with him. They knew their duty, and they would follow him without the need for words when such things could not communicate the urgency that grew in his heart.

The pace he had set might be considered reckless to some, but those few would be unwilling to admit that there were some things that were of greater worth than rational thought, logic, and caution. His sons were in need. That was all he knew and all he need know. 

It was as he traveled that he became aware of the feeling of being watched. The more he tried to ignore it, the more certain he was that his every move was under scrutiny. What it could be he would not guess, for blind guessing was not a thing in which he often indulged. A thought struck him that he should slow down, investigate, for if some evil followed he would not bring it to his sons. 

As he slowed his horse, he sensed someone ahead. There, where there had been nothing shortly before, he saw a tall figure in long, white robes. Pulling his reluctant mount to a stop, he addressed the welcome sight.

"Saruman! What brings you to this road and so far from Isengard?" Thranduil had heard the White Wizard sometimes left his tower when the need was great, but that was usually when he was in search of knowledge or when he was asked for counsel. The Wizard's appearance now spoke of haste. He stood by a horse that seemed lathered and hard ridden. His face was flushed as from such a ride over some great distance.

"I have come as quickly as I was able, King Thranduil. I saw the need of my assistance."

Thranduil nodded, though some thought, some doubt nibbled at the edge of awareness.

Saruman continued to speak, taking one step toward the Elven King. "I had a vision of your sons in some dire need, and of the Lord Elrond in fierce battle. I go to offer what help I can. After all, we are all allies against the one Enemy."

  
Thranduil nodded wondering what it was that he had found disturbing. Brushing away his concerns, likely brought on by too much worry and hasty riding, he nodded to the Wizard. "Your help is a gift from Eru himself, Saruman! Come! I ride to them now! I have had dreams of their need as well, though I am sure you know much more than I!" 

Thranduil gestured for Saruman to come ride by him, and the White Wizard complied. At first, the King was reticent to reveal any details of his fears for his sons, or for the condition that had led the two to seek assistance in The Golden Wood. After answering but a few of Saruman's questions, and hearing the soothing words and reassurances the Istar spoke to him in his smooth and comfort-laden voice, Thranduil became more and more relieved that his course had led him to the White Wizard. 

**

Saruman had been riding away from the battle between Gandalf and the spirit of the Blue Wizard with great haste. He did not truly believe anyone might discern his connections to what had happened there, but he was not willing to take the risk. Too much was at stake, and too much had already been lost.

He had not foreseen the arrival of Mirkwood's King, though he cursed himself now for his shortsightedness. Thranduil had always been much more difficult to predict than the other elven lords, but Saruman had been convinced as he had watched the plans of the Ithryn Luin unfold that the King would remain in his kingdom. Saruman would not have been surprised if Elrond had abandoned Rivendell to seek even one of his accursed offspring. Of course, the foul taint of human blood would make the Peredhil more emotional, less stable, than his fully elven counterparts. 

Thranduil's choice, however, made no sense. Thranduil had seemed often enough to put his realm ahead of his family, but there were always occasions when he stepped outside of this pattern. Why had Thranduil–Sindar King of the Woodland Realm, with not a drop of foreign blood to taint his elven heritage–why had he abandoned Mirkwood simply to seek his sons?

Staying in Mirkwood and making his realm safe from the encroaching darkness of the growing shadow should have been enough for the elf. Instead, he had abandoned his realm and taken off to be sure of his sons' well being. 

Saruman pondered this as he rode beside the King asking pointed questions and gathering what information he could. It soon occurred to him that Thranduil rode after not one, but two of his sons. Perhaps the oldest onesurely that! Thranduil must have heard the call of the Sea. He must be ready to leave Middle-earth and so would want to relinquish his Kingdom to his oldest son. There could be no other explanation.

Pleased with his reasoning, Saruman next considered how best to turn such information to his own use. Thranduil was considered by many to be the best elven King to have ruled in Middle-earth. Without him, the Woodland Realm might easily crumble or be taken in battle. His orcs would make short work of a defeated, disillusioned people who had lost their King. Certainly, they would have their new King, but Thranduil's son could neither be even half as formidable a ruler nor as sincere a threat as Thranduil himself. The next King of Mirkwood would not have the same desire to see Sauron defeated as Thranduil, who had held his father in his arms as Oropher's immortal life bled away.

The closer they came to the cavern where Gandalf and Alatar battled, the more pleased Saruman was to be returning to the very place he had only just fled. Arriving with the distraught King who sought only news of his sons' well being would provide cover enough for his actions.

He had used his most secret devices and spells to maintain some measure of awareness of the events unfolding within those dark caves and beyond, but he was not sure now who would prevail. Foresight was always a fickle mistress whether approached through Seeing Stones, dreams, or other more chemical methods. Often revealing only what it wished, or bending such sights to keep valued information away from those who might wield it to greater purpose, it was a sense that could be counted upon only to keep one guessing.

Guessing was what he had been doing when he'd seen the last vision that had spurred him from his hiding place to seek the solace of Isengard and the comfort of his notes, books, and scrolls of ancient history and lore. He had seen Lady Galadriel raise her hand, though he saw no reason for her to do so. She had seemed to be suggesting something to Elrond, but try as he might, Saruman could find out nothing more specific. Deciding it must be some elven spell that they wished to cast–weak in the face of the magic of a Wizard, though, he conceded, perhaps not in comparison to a disembodied Wizard–he had come to realize that he could gain little by remaining so close to disaster. Alatar would be destroyed, or he would acquire an elven body. There was naught he was willing to do in aid of either event.

  
The Ithryn Luin had failed in the missive Sauron had given them. The Dark Lord lacked power in some respects right now and had obviously expected the Blue Wizards to eliminate the one human that caused him any concern. Instead the Wizards had been bested by an elf, though he was quick to realize that his own spell had been the instrument of that failure. Pallando should not have been killed so easily by the human elf, but, still, Saruman found himself wondering why the Dark Lord had not told the Blue Wizards of the spell that had stolen the Prince's elvishness. 

Something had shifted, obviously, and the Great Eye either did not see that the Ithryn Luin would depend upon such elvishness to separate the human from his companions, or, perhaps, the Ithryn Luin had made some mistake in the casting of it. Whatever it had been, Saruman knew he had to find some way to salvage the situation, and he had. A feeble spell to be sure, but it would have the desired effect. Sauron's goal would be met, and some of the elves would suffer as well, perhaps being left behind, or at the least easily separated from the others. Saruman might yet have an elf or two on which to perfect the many spells he was still devising. 

It was also true that one human that Sauron feared had not truly been identified–at least not beyond doubt. The Enemy suspected it was this Ranger, this Strider, but he did not know for certain. The Lord of Mordor was having perhaps a dozen men followed and dispatched to their final reward just to be certain he killed the right man.

His thoughts drifted back to the elf who rode by his side. He watched with detached interest as the sound of his voice effectively altered the King's thinking. His spells often aided him in clouding his involvement in the evils that now plagued Middle-earth as he stretched his powers and tested their limits. He was deceiving the Deceiver and it was he, not Sauron, who would rule Middle-earth.

Saruman would not allow interference. As he rode beside the elven King, he could not help but consider that perhaps there was a way to turn this to an advantage. That was the only reason he had agreed to ride with the Mirkwood elves. He had spent no few months recently trying to determine if he should bend Thranduil's will to his own ends. It would be no simple task, but it was one he could achieve.

He had planned a much different fate for the Princeling, Thranduil's youngest son, though Alatar's possession of that soul had fouled his careful planning. Still, he had done damage of his own within the ranks of the elves that now raced through those caverns like the rats he sometimes set to racing each other through the artificial labyrinths of his own design.

Saruman allowed himself a small smile. Whatever happened now, he would be sure to be in a position to reap the largest reward. Saruman's successes so far had vastly outweighed any minor setbacks he had experienced. His own superior intellect and unerring logic had already set him above others of his kind. It would set him, by the end of this age, at the highest of pinnacles. 

**

Aragorn desired little else than to help Gandalf reclaim Legolas. How this could be achieved, the Ranger had no clue, though his heart trembled at the horror the elf–for such he still was in Aragorn's heart and mind–was enduring. 

He watched in mute anticipation of some moment when he could join the battle, but was soon distracted by a growing presence behind him. It was not sound nor smell, but something less–and also something more–that turned his attention to the small passage that otherwise he would not have noticed. 

It was a great shock to him to see Elrohir, Aglarelen, and Galadriel enter the cavern. The Lady of the Golden Wood could not have seemed more out of place anywhere. The shock of seeing her–one who would be more at home beneath the sun and among the limbs of the Mallorn–here in this dank, dark cave that seemed too dismal a hole even for orcs, brought a small cry of surprise to his lips.

He turned towards them, moving as swiftly as he could, given his injuries. He saw Aglarelen's attention drawn to his brother's presence. He was about to say something to stay the elf, when his father's sudden words saved him the task.

  
As Elrond explained what had happened, Elrohir approached Aragorn and slipped an arm around his waist, offering support and balance. Aragorn gave his brother a smile. Likely, the healer in his brother had recognized the pain he tried to hide.

"Estel!" Elrohir's surprise to see him in this condition was apparent. His brother spoke in elvish in soft soothing tones, which, in itself, was a great comfort to Aragorn. "What has happened? Has Ada seen to your hurts?"

Aragorn replied as he could, softly explaining to his brother what had befallen Legolas, and glossing over any mention of his own injuries. "You must help him, Elrohir! Tell me what I can do! Help me to save him!"

Elrohir spoke softly, shushing Aragorn. "I can do nothing that Gandalf cannot do, my brother. Mithrandir will not allow anything to happen to him!"

Aragorn then heard Elrond, an odd mixture of relief and concern touching his voice. "Elrohir! My son, are you well? Is your brother well?"

His brother's hesitation made Aragorn's heart sink making the words he uttered hardly necessary. Once Elrohir spoke, Aragorn turned quickly, his eyes seeking his father's reaction to such news. The Ranger could see indecision in his eyes and fear and worry creasing his noble brow. 

Galadriel then raised her hand revealing Nenya and urging Elrond to remain where he was in case the Power of the Three Rings was needed. Aragorn had not considered this. His mind, perhaps distracted by the ever-growing pain in his head and worry for his friend, had not given thought to the revelation of Vilya to a servant of the Dark Lord. He berated himself for the slowness of his thoughts once again feeling the dim human amidst a race of sharp-witted elves, he studied his father's face. He saw acceptance there, even readiness to step in to end this no matter the cost to himself.

He heard a sound then, a savage, bloodthirsty sound, and turned to see Legolas hurl himself–Nay! It was Alatar, not Legolas who behaved as such!–Alatar attacked Gandalf.

Pulling away from Elrohir's comfort and support, Aragorn made a move towards the two battling figures only to feel the steely grips of four of the Firstborn seize him and hold him. He struggled as best he could, but the pounding of his head was increasing. 

Ceasing his attempts to break from them, he fought the dizziness that would have sent him crashing to the floor had not so many elves held a piece of him. The pain in his head blocked all other sensations. He could not hear. He could feel naught but the pounding in his head. He seemed to lose all balance then and would have fought it vainly had he not realized at the last moment that he was not falling, but was instead being gently lowered to the ground.

He gazed up into the faces of four fearful elves before his sight, too, gave out. As he plunged into darkness, he called out to the one who had always answered his cry for help since he was two years old. "Ada"

**

Elrohir raced after his grandmother and the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, wondering where it was that they went. The corridor was lit dimly though Galadriel's glow seemed to outshine any elf Elrohir had ever seen. 

Galadriel, though she did not turn to him, knew somehow that he had followed. "We go to aid Legolas, and perhaps your father, should they be together." Her voice took on the strange slow timbre it usually did when some vision of the future came to her. "The Greenleaf falters." Now she did turn revealing a face of sorrow and concern. "Do not falter yourself, Elrohir. Find your strength and reject the lethargy that plagues you."

Elrohir, though long accustomed to his grandmother's cryptic words and uncanny knowledge of things she should not know, wondered how blatant his torpidity had been. He had seen none of it in the other elves, though perhaps a hint of it in Glorfindel. How had his grandmother? He cut off the thought. It mattered not how. He resolved to do as she bid, only hoping it was within his control.

He could feel tension from Aglarelen, knowing his worry for Legolas might easily surpass his own for Aragorn. After all, The Lady of the Golden Wood had just foreseen Legolas' need of aid. What further pronouncement could have stricken an elven heart so piercingly?

Elrohir saw ahead of them a slight break in the darkness. Realizing it led to a widening of the cavern only as he stepped through it, it surprised him no end to see Aragorn, obviously injured, turn to face them. He hobbled towards them and Elrohir moved swiftly to his side. 

Noting Aglarelen's cry for his brother, he looked towards Gandalf and Legolas, but it was his father's arrival at his side that eased his heart.

He heard Elrond speaking, though his ears seemed to drink in the sound of Aragorn's voice. "Estel!" He called in elvish. "What has happened? Has Ada seen to your hurts?"

He listened to Aragorn's befuddled explanations and strong exhortation that he do something to aid the Prince. Elrohir did not know what his brother thought he could do in the face of what was happening, but it was enough that he asked. That this young human he called brother put such faith in him strengthened his own desire to do all that he could. Even though, for now, it seemed to him that all he could do was calm Estel's fears.

Elrond's voice called to him then, asking after Elledan, and the elf hesitated to reveal in what dire predicament he had left his twin. As soon as he'd divulged Elladan's plight, he felt his heart constrict at the anguish such news caused his father. He reached out then to his brother seeking some assurance that Elladan had not been struck down. They had shared a strong connection since before their birth. They often communicated in such a way.

Relief flooded Elrohir as he felt the familiar connection. Elladan was well! He was about to share such solace with his father, but Galadriel chose that moment to reveal Nenya. 

Elrohir had rarely seen any of the Rings of Power though he had known of them. That there might be need to wield them now–together–froze his heart with fear. Surely they had not reached such dire straits as that!

It was then that he heard the howl. Legolas' voice, yet not Legolas', reverberated through the cavern with a rage, he had never before heard from elf or man. Aragorn pulled away from him, but Elrohir reached out pulling him back. Aglarelen, Elrond, and Galadriel each did the same. 

It was fortunate that they had, for Aragorn suddenly froze, and, in his stillness, Elrohir knew something was wrong. 

Aragorn swayed for a moment and would have fallen had they not all held him so firmly. Gently, they eased him to the ground. Elrohir was surprised to see his face so gray. Weakness claimed him suddenly and Elrohir could think of no cause. He turned to his father as Aragorn whispered, "Ada," and was still.

Frantic, Elrohir pleaded with Elrond. "What is it? What has happened?"

Lord Elrond ran his hands over his son's battered body, but he seemed unable to answer. Elrohir saw his father turn to his grandmother.

  
Galadriel placed a tender hand across Aragorn's eyes and closed her own. When she opened them, Elrohir felt his heart break. "He is dying. There is little we can do. We must take him from these caverns if we are to have any hope of saving him. Evil fouls this place."

"We have not been able to find the passage!" Elrond's frustration boiled over flooding the cavern. "We have been prevented by some dark purpose."

Galadriel again closed her eyes and seemed to search unseeing. Opening them again, she grasped Elrohir's hand. "You will take your brother to the camp."

  
Elrohir nodded. He would do this. Somehow, he would. She offered him a small smile. "You will not fail, Elrohir."

Heartened by her words, he gathered Aragorn to him, and stood cradling the man as though he were naught but a small child. He would do this. He could not fail.

To Be Continued

Deana: Eighteen is almost finished. (I hope!) More to come soon!

  
Silvertoekee: It is getting a little crowded in there! More Aragorn as soon as I get him out of the cave. (I can't seem to get them to leave.

Grumpy: SureTrin and Deana can make a little room for one more, I suppose. Like I said to Deana, chapter 18 will be up soon!

Catherinexxix: Okay, now it's getting crowded on the doorstep and the neighbors are starting to talk. (Trin, Deana, and Grumpy, she said she'd bring hot chocolate and blankets!) You seem to be partial to Aragorn, Elrond, and Gandalf! I'm glad you like this. I'm thrilled you liked the bit when Elrond was considering going back for Elladan. I don't think he could have made himself leave, however. I don't want to alienate my muse, but I'm kinda surprised at how long this has gotten, too. With the addition of this chapter, it's now the longest thing I've posted.

Jopru: Sorry about the cliffie. I can't seem not to write them.

  
Lauren: Thanks! I'll e-mail some fanfic recommendations to you.

Jadesaber: Is he dying? He's dying. Whether or not he'll remain dying I won't really say! 

Templa Otema: You? Psycho fan-girl? Naahh! Seriously, there's nothing wrong with obsession, as long as we know what time the last ship leaves Middle-earth! I'm glad you liked Gandalf's blessing as well as Gandalf in this chapter, and the thoughts of some of the characters about having to kill Legolas. Gandalf is a wonderful character, and I'm thrilled you like the way I've written him! Legolas? LOL! Yeah, I have to try and get more of him into this story, don't I? Cliffies are addictive. I can't seem to stop now.

Cosmic Castaway: OkayI'll just raise my hands and back away. Next chapter is almost ready. More Legolas and Aragorn angst to come.

Leggylover03: Thanks! As I've mentioned, more Estel pain on the way!

Tychen: I hope this chapter answered some of your questions. I promise to get to every one before the last chapter.

  
Sirithiliel: Yes, Alatar can still use magic, but he's not as strong as he was in his own body.

  
Elven Kitten: You're right! They do! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

  
Fire Eagle: Thanks! Glad you like it.  
  
Estelreader: LOL! Wow! That makes five of you out there on the steps! I'm writing as fast as I can! I promisemy POTC muse is getting a little angry that I keep putting her off, though Seriously, you asked all the right questions. I'll answer them all in the coming chapters.

Chloe Amethyst: That's true. I guess its like having all your eggs in one basket. Still, Sauron isn't as strong here as he is in LOTR, and I don't think the elves are as likely to turn on each other in the event that all their leaders are killed. Mass exodus to Valinor is probably as bad as it gets. The Glorfindel and Elrohir problem will become clearer. You are, of course, right about the repetition, and I've been trying to avoid that. This chapter was a bit better, I think. Thanks again for your reviews. They mean a lot to me!

White Wolf1: You're right! I hadn't realized that! Your story and mine were so different that it hadn't occurred to me. Anyone reading this story who hasn't read White Wolf's The Wrong Path yet, go read it now. Go on! You'll be glad you did!


	18. part 18

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

Author's Note: My muse keeps going and going, so I have this chapter to post. Consider it a bonus before the weekend starts. I'm hard at work on the next installment! Enjoy!

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 18

By Ecri

The Lady of the Golden Wood offered her grandson a small smile as he lifted his human brother into his strong, elven arms. She had told him he would not fail, knowing he would believe she had seen it some prophecy. She often used the belief of others in her foresight to influence them. It did Elrohir no harm to believe that he would succeed, and indeed might well save both his and Estel's life. Belief—faith—was often a more formidable weapon than a sword.

Galadriel watched Gandalf preparing to strike, but what she saw that the Wizard could not was Legolas' attempt to hinder Alatar. No. More than hindering the Blue Wizard, Legolas sought to take from Alatar the only weapon he could yet wield. Undoubtedly counting on the Power of the Three Rings to keep everyone else safe from possession should Alatar's spirit seek some other host, Legolas lunged for Aglarelen's sword, and, while Alatar tried desperately to force the sword point to take Aragorn's life, Legolas turned the blade on himself.

Galadriel knew her interference was needed. Holding aloft Nenya, though she was loathe to use it in case it might tempt her further with its power and turn her from the path she had chosen, she held her hand out towards Legolas. She saw the Power of Nenya, visible only as a growing light on her hand, and it did not surprise her when the glow doubled. Vilya and Nenya, side by side, protected their wearers and battled the fallen Maia.

**

Gandalf taunted Alatar hoping for nothing more than to enrage the Wizard. The First Blue Wizard had never possessed a great deal of patience, and Gandalf was certain his control would slip if he became distracted.

The Grey Wizard held Legolas' battered and bruised _fëa_ within the palm of his hand, or at least, that was how he had explained it to the young prince. He could feel the soul tremble in exhaustion as he guarded it. Alatar controlled Legolas' body, but Gandalf had secreted Legolas' _fëa_ away behind barriers that Alatar could not easily break. It was only by Legolas' will that Gandalf could do such a thing, for permission was necessary, as was trust. The young Woodelf had always trusted Gandalf explicitly, so that had not been an issue.

He maintained his hold on Legolas only through his proximity, however. He lacked the power to draw living soul from living flesh, and would not have done so in any case. Taking Legolas from his body would have done little but strengthen Alatar's hold. 

  
Gandalf would have to evict the Blue Wizard from Legolas' body before he could restore body and spirit. For now, he held Legolas' soothing him with soft elvish words. 

As the battle grew in intensity, he sometimes lost the concentration he needed to shield Legolas from the onslaught. In those moments, he heard the young prince cry out as though struck by some blow, and indeed, that was very like what was happening. 

Gandalf had never before lamented his station content to be what he was, but now, he could not help but think the Power of the White Wizard would have been much better suited to cast Alatar out. If only Saruman were nearby!

Gandalf felt Alatar's hatred. He knew the Blue wanted to destroy him, but he could also sense that Alatar hated Legolas because he had killed Pallando.

This made sense, for the death of one Blue Wizard was likely to unhinge the other, though, from what Gandalf could tell, Alatar had been unhinged for years.

"Release your hold, Alatar, and your death will be swift!" Gandalf bellowed the words.

Alatar's laughter echoed through the cavern. "Do you think it that easy to make me surrender? I will torment this Not-Elf for the rest of my days, and I will use him to destroy everything in my path! He will become the instrument by which I destroy as many of the Firsborn as I may!"

Gandalf felt Legolas shiver at such words, but he could spare no thought to ease the fragile soul he sheltered. He had to do this, and it had to be now, but to properly destroy Alatar, he needed all of his strength_. Forgive me, Legolas, but I must release you now. He must be destroyed, but he is stronger than he should be. I will need all that I possess—all that I am—to defeat him._

Once more, he felt Legolas' acceptance, though Legolas was unable to speak or even to think it. What communication the prince was still capable of was purely emotional.

Gathering his strength, Gandalf prepared for the final blow, hoping only that it was enough, and that Legolas would survive without his protection.

****

Aglarelen gaped at the sight of his brother in battle with Gandalf. His brain refused to make sense of it, and he called out to Legolas as he entered the cavern. "Legolas!"

His progress forward was stopped. Glancing to his right, he saw Lord Elrond holding him firm. He listened in horror as the Lord of Imladris explained what had happened to Legolas. He wished nothing more than to rush to his brother's side and somehow tear this depravity from him, but he faltered. He knew neither what he faced, nor how to counter it. He might well do more harm than good. 

He turned his full attention towards Gandalf. The Grey Wanderer, eyes closed, hand raised, seemed to offer little opposition, but he saw Legolashe saw _Alatar_cringing as though struck. Could his brother survive this? He had to believe he could though he wished Legolas still possessed his elven healing ability. Aglarelen had no idea what sort of punishment a human body could take. He had seen Aragorn grievously injured in the past but he had always paid much more attention to his brother's hurts. Rarely was one sound when the other was not. Surely Legolas could not take now such abuse as he might have easily handled when he'd been an elf!

He listened with half an ear as Galadriel and Elrond discussed the Rings of Power. His eyes remained riveted to his brother. Each cry of surprise when Gandalf's blows found their mark, whether seen or unseen, seemed to make Legolasangrier. 

He searched his mind for some way to help, but found none. Frustration took him, and, when he heard Legolas' voice, twisted by rage and pain and the possession of this fallen Maia, he was about to run to his aid when he realized that Aragorn meant to do the same. If he, an elf many centuries old, knew not how to help, how could an injured human child offer any aid? 

He reached out to restrain the man not at all surprised that each of the others had done the same. It was only when the Ranger's knees buckled, and he began to fall that Aglarelen's attention, divided up to that moment, flew to this man his brother named friend. 

Helping Lord Elrond and the others ease the man to the ground, he watched the Lord of Imladris seek some treatment that would aid his son. 

He heard Elrohir, near hysteria, begging his father to tell him what was wrong, but Aglarelen stared at the Lady Galadriel 

The soft tones of her voice delivered the harsh words and Aglarelen guessed at the pain Lord Elrond felt just to hear them. "He is dying." She touched his head where he'd been struck bringing it away with naught but flakes of dried blood upon it, but the implication was enough. A head injury could often be fatal with little indication as to how serious it was.

Aglarelen lost himself for a moment. His thoughts had turned to his brother and he wondered how he could tell Legolas that his dearest friend was dying. Then, realizing he might never have the chance to tell Legolas anything, he again found himself watching the Wizard Battle.

Alatar's scream had been the beginning of his attack, and now, Aglarelen saw the lithe form of his youngest, dearest sibling as it wrestled Gandalf to the ground. Half a battle of Wizards—magic to magic—and half a battle such as those engaged in by mortals—punching, throttling, and kicking—the fight seemed to honor no rules. Neither of the combatants seemed capable of going on much longer. 

Aglarelen drew his sword. Something had to be done. He stepped closer to Gandalf and Legolas. He had to end this! He could not bring himself to hit either of them, however, and simply stood nearby, his sword hanging from his limp almost lifeless grasp.

  
Fear held him fast as he watched, wishing something could be done, but knowing that he himself did not have the power. Anguish tore at his heart and he called then to his brother allowing every emotion he held within him to spill forth into that word.

  
"Legolas!" 

The battle before him seemed to freeze for a moment. In that moment, frozen in time, Aglarelen saw him! He saw _Legolas_! The eyes of his brother finally looked upon him, the blackness drifting away. He was tired and fearful, but there!

  
Aglarelen's heart leaped for joy, until Legolas' eyes slipped. With a rapidity that startled him, Legolas' eyes changed back. Black seemed to seep in from the side and soon, the lifeless, evil eyes glared at Aglarelen making Legolas' familiar face foreign. A noise grew low in his throat, and Legolas seemed to tear himself from Gandalf and throw himself at Aglarelen.

  
The Crown Prince was surprised, but did not do more than take a half step back. He would never have conceived of raising a hand against his brother. A moment later Aglarelen cursed his instincts as Legolas seized the sword from his brother's lax grip. 

"Nooooo!" Aglarelen's cry echoed through the chamber.

****

Legolas fought for control. He knew Alatar planned to kill—to use his body as the weapon. Just as the Wizard assumed Gandalf and the others would do naught if it meant harming him, so Alatar assumed that his powers would overwhelm Legolas. He could not allow it. It took all the strength he possessed to interfere, but he found he could sometimes affect Alatar's control of him. Forcing his arm to bend or a muscle to spasm, Legolas kept the Blue Wizard unsteady enough that Gandalf might be able to do something.

When Gandalf offered some respite, some moment behind whatever shields a Maia might erect against such attack, he had trusted to it. In truth, he had gained some measure of peace, of strength held there in Gandalf's hand. If Gandalf had not offered him such, he was certain he could not have stood against Alatar alone.

He sensed the arrival of others, and, somehow, whether through his own eyes or through some other sense, he knew his brother had come. His heart leaped in joy. Somehow, Aglarelen had freed himself from whatever unnatural state had claimed him. Might he hope the same for the others? He realized he could when he became aware of Elrohir as well. He would have sought Elladan, knowing the twins were never long parted from each other, but the presence of the Lady of the Golden Wood claimed his attention. 

He knew her though he could not say how as they had never met before. He was struck by her loveliness, and felt her presence somehow give strength to his fight. 

It was then that Gandalf spoke to him. _. Forgive me, Legolas, but I must release you now. He must be destroyed, but he is stronger than he should be. I will need all that I possess—all that I am—to defeat him._

Legolas could not answer. Communication seemed out of his control, so, hoping he could reach the Istar in a more basic way, he forced himself to feel calm in a sea of anxiety. Acceptance radiated from him, as did trust. It was all that he could manage, but somehow it was enough. Gandalf's thanks came to him just a moment before he felt the barriers that sheltered him shatter.

Alatar was upon him instantly. His malice and hatred taunting Legolas' captive spirit, the Blue Wizard tormented him because his arrow had found its mark and ended Pallando's life. He called him a freak because of his oddness wrought by whatever had taken his elven nature and left him with a human yet elf-like existence. Legolas fought back. Reaching for whatever muscles or limbs he might wrench from Alatar's control, Legolas soon made it impossible for Alatar to do much but concentrate on holding his body.

A familiar sound came to him then, and somehow in that instant he again controlled his body. His head snapped up away from Gandalf and he beheld his brother. Aglarelen had called to him. Seeing his dear brother, sword in hand, unsure of his next move surprised Legolas. He had never known Aglarelen to be unsure of anything.

Alatar's presence came flooding back to him, and he knew he was again losing to the Wizard. Struggle as he might, he could not maintain his tenuous grip on himself. He felt his arms raise. He felt himself stumble to his feet and throw himself at Aglarelen. He felt cold steel in his hands as Alatar wrenched Aglarelen's sword from him. He heard his brother shout.

Unsure what Alatar planned, Legolas did not have to wait long to learn. Alatar's attention was riveted on two figures. Elrohir carried Aragorn and made his way towards the split in the cavern wall. In moments, Aragorn would be safe. 

Alatar would not have that. Legolas felt the Wizard's rage at the sight of Aragorn nearing escape. With an evil cry, Alatar brought Aglarelen's sword up and rushed towards the human. 

Legolas was frantic. His strength was waning, and he knew it. He felt Gandalf preparing to strike out at Alatar, and knew there would be little time. Gandalf's strength was growing as he channeled his powers through his staff. Legolas waited until the last moment, knowing that if he were to help his friend at all, he'd have to strike at the precise moment that Gandalf did. Pleading with Eru to grant him such precision, and to hinder any attempt Alatar might make to take possession of anyone else, Legolas contracted muscles, bent limbs, and in that identical instant when Mithrandir struck, Legolas managed to seize his brother's sword and turn it upon himself.

He barely felt the blade slice through muscle, just as he barely heard his brother's anguished cry. Alatar's evil flooded him. The Blue Wizard's anger would not be contained. 

  
_Not-elf! What have you done? _

Legolas knew Alatar would have said more, but Gandalf's magic would not be denied. The last thing Legolas knew before he slipped into oblivion was the wailing of the Blue Wizard.

**

King Thranduil heard a cry familiar yet haunted. He need hear no words to know what had happened. There was little that could cause his eldest son such torment. Something had happened to his Greenleaf. A sudden dizziness came upon him and he put a hand to his head. His fingers rested then on cold metal and he pulled them away to stare as if puzzled at his hand. Raising his hands again he took hold of the circlet, symbol of his Kingship, and tore it from his head. He stared at it, glittering and beautiful in the sunlight and felt unable to comprehend why he held it.

Symbol of his Kingship? Now it meant naught to him! This had been thrust upon him at the end of the Last Great Alliance of Elves and Men when Oropher died a bitter death in the dark lands of Mordor! This had kept him from remaining at his son's side when his Sweet Greenleaf was most in need of his father's protection!

Thinking to cast it far from him, he took the circlet in one hand and moved as though to toss it through the boughs of the nearest tree. Just as he was about to release it, something stayed his hand. 

__

Ada

Aglarelen! Aglarelen called out to him again, with tears in his voice to be sure, but he called. He lived, and perhaps he would be able to hold the tenuous threads of his brother's life together until Thranduil could reach them. Thranduil knew, in that unshakable way that any parent can know, that his youngest son was in mortal danger. _Mortal_ danger. He would not give in to despair until he held them both again. Blinking away the moisture that brimmed in his elven eyes, he stared at his hand that now held the circlet of his Kingship. He could no more toss that away now than he could turn back to Mirkwood and forsake his sons. His sons. Aglarelen would make a fine King. If Legolas did not survive, Thranduil knew he would sail to the Undying Lands. He knew all his sons—Aglarelen, Oropherin, and Tarmathalion—would likely soon follow. It seemed that they all lived this life in Middle-earth for Legolas' sake. Without himhe broke off the thoughts as more tears threatened to fall from his eyes. 

"Aglarelen must have this." Half in a daze of sorrow Thranduil whispered the words and slipped the circlet back onto his head though it felt odd and out of place as it never had before.

He leaned forward then over his horse's head and whispered softly in his ear. A few soft words in elvish, and the horse raced ahead leaving his companions behind. He had not spared a thought for any of them, so he did not see the small, knowing smile that graced the White Wizard's features.

**

  
Saruman watched the King, certain he had felt the tug of the sea. When he'd held the crown of Mirkwood in his slender hands whispering that his son must have it, Saruman had seen the confirmation of his soundly reasoned thoughts. Certainly this sudden strange behavior could be naught but that elvish affliction! Thranduil would leave. Mirkwood would crumble, and Saruman would use it as a base for his orcs and wargs to attack Lothlorien. The Golden Wood would fall to him, as would Rivendell, for Mirkwood's vastness could easily harbor enough orcs to put an end to both realms. He would begin the breeding as soon as Thranduil departed for the Grey Havens. No need to wait until he actually sailed. The ascension of Aglarelen as King would be the time. 

With luck, Saruman thought he might be able to induce the sea longing in the next King, and perhaps in his brothers as well. Mirkwood would be leaderless all the sooner.

Saruman put on his most concerned expression and turned to the other elves. "Come! Your King rides on without us!" He took off at a gallop savoring the image he knew he projected to the backward Silvan elves of a Wizard wishing little more than to offer assistance. The image would be enough to draw away suspicion of his own motivations until such time as he held the power he would need. 

That time would be soon, he thought, scoffing at the fool elves who believed a being as superior to them as he was would submit to their wishes. That he would hold himself akin to them when he was as far above them as they themselves were over the mindless slugs and worms that crawled through Middle-earth. He almost laughed out loud, but checked himself in time. He had enough discipline to keep from celebrating his victory here among the very beings he intended to crush.

**

Celeborn stood in the entry to the larger cavern seeing a sight he would not have expected had he stood there until the end of the Song. Gandalf threw some almighty power at Legolas Thranduilion, who seemed to be heaving a great sword into his own body while his brother looked on in horror.

  
Galadriel and Elrond stood very close then to Gandalf and the trio held aloft their hands light shining from their ring fingers and washing over the prone form of the fallen prince.  
  
Aglarelen, being held back by the firm grip of Elrond's free hand, tried to wrench himself free and race to his fallen brother, while Elrohir carried an unconscious Estel.

Celeborn entered then, the other elves falling in behind him. He issued orders immediately, having Elrohir and Estel escorted from the cave. Returning his attention to his wife, he saw that she seemed both determined and saddened. He wanted to go to her, but knew he could ill afford to distract her attention from what magic she wielded.

Moving instead to Aglarelen, he took hold of the younger elf's arms, freeing Elrond's attentions from the Crown Prince. Elladan stood by him then, and Celeborn knew how hard it was for his grandson not to follow Estel and Elrohir, but he saw anguish in Elladan's eyes as the eldest twin glanced from Legolas, writhing in agony upon the ground, and Elrond holding Vilya aloft.

Celeborn passed Aglarelen to Elladan's care, catching his grandson's eyes. "Take the Crown Prince to our camp, my grandson. We will all join you both shortly." His slight emphasis of the word all seemed to allow Elladan to take a breath.

Elladan nodded once, and, with Haldir's help, wrestled the elf from the cavern and back the way Elrohir had gone with Estel.

Celeborn then turned his attention to his wife. Galadriel looked not in the slightest affected by her action. The power seemed neither to overwhelm nor to tempt her with promises of more. This was something that always worried her. Celeborn knew in his heart that she would never fall to evil, though it was a fear she claimed never to be without.

He stood nearby wondering what he could do, when the light abruptly stopped. He saw a dark, grey shapeless form hover above Legolas who remained motionless where he'd fallen, the great sword still in his hands, for he'd wrenched it free just as he'd fallen releasing a torrent of blood from the wound.

Gandalf raised his staff then to point at the formless thing, and in his voice was all the authority an Istar could contain. "Your time has ended, Alatar, though you seem unwilling to understand! Go! Go to the abyss, the empty, timeless place where you will await the end of the Song! Your powers have faded, and I command that you release the soul you seek to torment lest Eru himself descend to heap his wrath upon you! Go!"

With a final wave of the staff, the indistinct, pulsing entity dissipated like smoke in the wind.

Celeborn was at Legolas' side in an instant and was met an instant later by Gandalf, Galadriel, and Elrond. "I have sent Aglarelen away." He told them as he waited for one of them to tell him what had happened or at least to tell him that Legolas would be well. As he refused to believe his wife might fall to shadow, he also refused to consider the notion that the youngest Prince of Mirkwood might well have seen his last sunrise. The looks on the faces of those gathered around him spoke of different beliefs.

To Be Continued

Joee1: LOL! Then you should love this update. I think this is a record for me! I'm glad you're enjoying this!

Deana: Yes, it is a bit crowded out there. I hope this extra-quick update keeps you guys happy through the weekend!

  
Silvertoekee: I'm bringing them out of there soon. I promise. Plenty more action, angst, and H/C to come!

Strider's Girl: Dying and dead aren't always permanent conditions in fantasy fictionsespecially fanfiction! More soon!

Leggylover03: I'm working out the details of the healing. There's a lot of powerful beings gathered here, but my muse is being a little tight-lipped about which of them is going to come through for us. Maybe by the next chapter or the one after that!

Isadora2: I don't mind! I'm just happy the fic is getting so popular. Glad you like it!

  
Templa Otema: You're welcome for bringing Thranduil back. There will be more of him! I'm glad you said all that about Saruman! That's exactly what I was trying to do! Saruman does have a tendency to think of compassion as a weakness. When I write him I try to remember that line from LOTR about his mind being wheelsI forget the exact quote. Hee! Having the horse throw him! That's a nice idea. I'll have to remember thatvindictive horsesLOL!

Grumpy: Yes, Saruman is involved in a lot of this. As for Glorfindel and Elrohirmore on that soon. Aragorn is dying, but more on that later. (Your favorite Ranger is mine as well, but he's fair game to Saruman and Sauron!)

  
Cosmic Castaway: So you're camping outside, too? Next chapter soon, I promise!

Catherinexxix: Thanks! So you like the tender moments? Angst, etc. That's cool. I'm trying to keep the family dynamic in the forefront. I hope that's working. Gee! Your favorite fanfic! Thanks! More soon.


	19. part 19

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 19

By Ecri

Glorfindel paced before the entrance to that dark and dismal cave. He would have raced back inside, so intent was he on learning what had befallen Elrond and his sons, but his sense of duty would not give him leave to flout one of Lord Celeborn's orders. He had been asked to wait here at the camp, and wait he would, though, in truth, he was certain he'd rather face an orc-horde alone than to stand here unable to offer assistance.

  
Finally, the sound of running from just inside the cavern came to his sharp ears. A few minutes later, Elrohir stumbled out with Estel in his arms, followed soon after by Elladan pulling an unwilling Aglarelen along behind him.

"What has happened?" He asked the question even as he motioned for the others of Haldir's warriors to prepare what medicines had been gathered. Already the smell of athelas drifted through the camp as a handful was dropped into a pot of steaming water. The clean, smell seemed to clear Glorfindel's head as the fresh air had not.

Elrohir gently placed Estel on one of the pallets that had been prepared while Elladan still held firmly to Aglarelen who seemed intent on going back into the cavern. Glorfindel could see that the Ranger was unconscious, but Elrohir explained as well as he could. "He is not well. It is a blow to the head and who knows what other injuries. Ada" here the young lord's voice cracked, causing Glorfindel to look up sharply. He could glean no information from Elrohir's face, but it was clear both twins worried for their father.

"He will be well." Glorfindel's voice was the merest whisper, but the twins seemed to relax with that brief assurance though in truth neither they nor Glorfindel could say if he spoke of Estel or of Elrond.

Glorfindel, feeling more himself, turned to Haldir. "There were orcs inside, so we can assume there may be yet more within and without. Set up a double guard along the perimeter, and set several at the mouth of the cave. We will need to have warning if any of those fell beasts try to take us by surprise."

  
Haldir nodded in acceptance of Glorfindel's orders as easily as if they had come from his own lord or lady. In moments, the elven warriors had been dispatched to their posts. Glorfindel returned his attention to Estel.

  
"Can you aid him?" He asked the question of both twins, unsure if either was up to the task.

  
Elladan nodded. "I can, but he would be in better hands if Ada were here." The eldest of Elrond's children gestured to the large lump on the back of Estel's head and the rusty stains on his collar. "It is a head injury, and a severe one. It is not fresh, so there is no telling how long this went untreated before Ada was able to see to it. Even then, he had time only for a quick dressing and a bit of athelas." Worry laced his words bringing a tightness to his voice and glimmer of despair to his eyes.

"Your father will be here soon, Elladan. All you need to do is keep him well until then." Glorfindel's pronouncement made it seem a simple thing, and Elladan smiled.

Glorfindel placed a hand upon his arm in a gesture of support before going to seek his brother. Elrohir sat motionless nearby, breathing deeply of the fragrance of athelas that lingered in the air though his attention did not stray from his brothers.

Glorfindel moved to his side and sat beside him. "I saw you during the orc battle." He whispered. He had wanted to speak to Elrohir as soon as he had realized that the younger elf must be affected as he was. "I must confess you looked much as I felt."

Elrohir looked him in the eye as if gauging the truth in his words. "I have not felt myself since we awakened."

"Nor have I." Glorfindel admitted seeing Elrohir's relief that he was not the only one so afflicted. "I do not know why you and I should feel differently than the others, but perhaps it is something that your father can decipheror your grandparents"

Elrohir smiled. "Or Gandalf! We have no shortage of people whom we may ask!"

It was then that the sound of many horses reached their ears. Glorfindel stood and drew his weapon, as did every warrior not already guarding the perimeter of their camp. He took a step forward then, placing himself between the unknown threat and his Lord's son. He would give his life to protect Elrohir, and the young twin was not at his best just now. Though he knew the younger elf would little appreciate such a gesture, it was for Elrond's sake that he did it. Conveniently, he dismissed the knowledge that whatever Elrohir suffered had affected him as well.

As the approaching horses came into view, Glorfindel sheathed his sword_. "Mae Govannen, Aran Thranduil!_" He stepped forward to catch at the King's horse, noting immediately the way Thranduil cast his eyes about the camp as though searching for something. 

He glanced around, but saw Aglarelen breaking free from the warrior that held him from racing back to the caverns where Legolas fought for his life. He stepped aside to allow father and son a private reunion.

**

Aglarelen fought with Elladan the length of the corridors. He strained against the strong arms that kept him moving relentlessly away from his brother's side wondering all the while where Elladan had come by such unnatural strength. It did not occur to him that Elladan was driven to leave the caverns with the same force of will that called him back inside, for Elladan's injured brother traveled along these corridors ahead of them in Elrohir's arms and would soon reach their camp.

Once outside, though he sought after Estel's health and did what little he could, he was forever trying to return to Legolas. Soon Glorfindel ordered a guard to stand near him and keep him from running blindly through the cavern.

He settled reluctantly to wait, but was forever testing his guard's presence of mind. One lapse and he would be by Legolas' side in an instant. The warrior was alert, however, and Aglarelen was left alone with his thoughts. Anxiety over his brother's health was his only companion. The sight of Legolas falling on Aglarelen's sword was a sight that would haunt him all the days of his life. There would be no erasing that image save perhaps by the peace to be found only in Valinor. 

He listened to Elladan's whispered words about Estel's condition. He saw Glorfindel speak softly to Elrohir, but his mind was not on what played out before him. It was deep within the cavern behind him, with Legolas, where he'd left his heart.

The sound of horses running came to him and he rose though his guard immediately blocked his path. Scowling in a manner that would remind any Woodelf of King Thranduil, Aglarelen turned reluctantly away from the cavern and towards the approaching horses. His heart leapt with joy at the sight of his father and he was by the King's side in moments.

"Ada!" Aglarelen cried out as Thranduil slipped off the bare back of his horse. "Ada! You have come! How did you find us?"

Thranduil held onto Aglarelen as he had never held onto anything in his life. "How could I help but find you when your cries were like a beacon calling me to your side?" 

Aglarelen had not realized his father had heard his heart's anguished call. In truth, as the horrific sights inside that cave had unfolded before him, he had felt like an elfling again pleading for his Ada to come to him and make everything right again. It had almost embarrassed him, but if the result was that he stood now in his father's warm embrace, he was happy to have done it.

Thranduil opened his mouth to speak, but Aglarelen, knowing what he would ask, offered all he knew. "It is Legolas, Ada. He is" He gestured behind him towards the cave. "He is inside. There is a great battle"

Thranduil cut him off drawing his own sword. "Then we shall go to him and help him!" 

"No! It is not the sort of battle in which such weapons will aid us." He hesitated the briefest of moments before filling his father in on what he had seen. He watched his father's face, familiarity allowing him to see the subtle way each word he spoke affected Thranduil. His heart was near to breaking when he finally finished the tale. "Mithrandir fights for him now, buthe took my sword! He plunged it deep into his side!" The memory was too much for him. Aglarelen, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, who often stood before rank upon rank of well-armed orcs without flinching, could not now help but weep at the memory of his dear brother lying motionless in a pool of his own blood. Blood that had been spilt by the very blade Aglarelen called his own.

Thranduil held his son, and Aglarelen was grateful that he chose not to speak. The only thing he wanted now was to see Legolas whole and hale. The longer it took for Gandalf and the others to appear with him, however, the more firmly despair gripped his heart. With great force of effort he ceased his tears. It did his brother an injustice to weep for Legolas as though he had already departed this world's realm for the Halls of Mandos.

It was then that a sound behind them became a shout, and a single glance confirmed the arrival of the others. The sound of running feet echoed through the doorway of stone, and in mere moments Celeborn bore the bleeding body of the Prince of Mirkwood out of the darkness. The others, pale and spent, appeared just behind him breathing deeply and instinctually of the athelas laden air.

Aglarelen tore away from his father's embrace, but at the sight his heart feared most, that of Legolas limp, bleeding, and unconscious, the wail of the Crown Prince of Mirkwood was sorrow itself given voice. 

**

Thranduil had heard his son's anguished cry as he raced through the forest not caring if Saruman or his own warriors followed. At a breakneck speed, he defied the tree roots and rocks and others obstacles to trip up his horse as his heart focused on finding his sons.

A firm grip on his arm surprised him for he had not thought anyone could reach him. Glancing toward the source of that grip, he saw Saruman staring at him, concern on his face andsomething more that the Elven King could not place. Slowing his mount, he looked questioningly at the Wizard.

"Caution would be best here, King Thranduil, for your pace could prove the death of you."

Thranduil grew uncomfortable at the way Saruman seemed to linger over the word 'death' as though it were a sweet treat he was loath to allow to leave his lips. Shaking off both the feeling and the grip, he wondered for a moment if he had pushed his warriors too hard. He glanced back and saw that they were keeping up, but they did appear winded

No! His heart cried out to him, overruling the logic his mind wished him to follow. My sons! He turned to Saruman. "You do not understand. You are not what I am! You cannot comprehend what I feel! I must make haste and find my sons!" Thranduil knew no being who had not been a parent could comprehend what it meant to have his children simultaneously in such danger and so far from them. He did not blame Saruman, and he would likely even forgive the Wizard his ignorance. He pushed his horse into a mad gallop, and left Saruman staring after him.

It was nearly an hour later that he first caught sight of the elven warriors. They wore the colors of Lothlorien, and Thranduil puzzled over such a thing. His sons had departed from Rivendell. What were Lorien elves doing here? They were not yet close enough to the Golden Wood to encounter a perimeter guard. Indeed, they were barely halfway between Imladris and Lothlorien. Dismissing the particulars, he approached one guard, identified himself, and was immediately granted leave to enter the camp. 

He was close, Thranduil could tell. Aglarelen's heart cried out to him, hastening him on his way. Rather than dismounting as he would normally do to lead his mount through the camp of a band of elves, he rode on, pushing his loyal steed to endure the pace for a short while longer.

Finally reaching the campsite, he caught sight of Glorfindel who moved swiftly toward him, but he gave no thought to the ancient elf's words. His eyes scanned the camp, finally coming to rest on his eldest son. He dismounted with a grace only the Firsborn could manage and swept his child–for even though he was ancient by the reckoning of mortals, Aglarelen was still his child–into an embrace. He would have been hard pressed to say who needed the physical contact more, his son or himself. 

He listened to the words his son offered by way of explanation, his heart near to bursting in his chest as Aglarelen described what had happened to Legolas. That his sons had endured so much while he had sat in safety in Mirkwood's cavernous palace was a horrific thought to him.

He had said as much to his other sons before his hurried departure from Mirkwood. Oropherin had been most against his leaving Mirkwood insisting that he or Tarmathalion would be better choices for the journey.

Thranduil recalled his vehement reply to the suggestion.

"You do not understand, Oropherin! They call to me! Whether consciously or unconsciously, they call to _me_! Not their _King_, but their _father_! I will not have anyone else ride in my stead!" 

"Ada," Oropherin said calmly, "I do not suggest that you abandon your obligations as their father, just that you consider that Mirkwood needs you as well."

Thranduil turned to his son. "Do not presume to tell me my duties. I know them well!" His heart softened as his son looked away from him, and Thranduil knew Oropherin struggled with his own concerns over what fate his brothers might face. "I leave Mirkwood in good hands. You will be Sovereign until I return with your brothers. Between you and Tarmathalion, Mirkwood will hardly know I am away."

Oropherin had accepted his words in the end, and had helped him convince a reluctant Tarmathlion that this was for the best. Thranduil knew what had prompted the pair to insist they would be better suited to search for Aglarelen and Legolas. The two were going half-mad with worry over their brothers. Not one of them had been unaffected by Legolas' condition, and though each was glad that Aglarelen had remained with the youngest of their number, each also wished to be the one to whom Legolas clung. 

  
Thranduil knew that neither Oropherin nor Tarmathalion begrudged the closeness their brothers felt for each other. Indeed, they themselves were closer to each other than to either of their other siblings, though the relationships of all four were closer than the King could ever have imagined in those long ago years before his children had been born. It was simply this feeling of uselessness, this inability to set things right for their youngest brother that had each wishing for nothing more than some task to accomplish that might, in the end, aid their Greenleaf to reclaim that which had been stolen from him.

Thranduil could never blame them for that, but he hoped only that they understood his need to find their brothers himself rather than to wrestle with matters of state many miles away from where the two faced danger. 

He knew now, even as he embraced Aglarelen that he had left his middle sons to the very torment he had escaped by racing out here. The torment of not knowing, of guessing what could be happening to those they loved would be hard for them to bear, and he knew he would be hard-pressed to make it up to them.  
  
Any other thoughts of his family were driven from his mind as the sound of running feet came to him. As did every other elf in the camp, Thranduil turned towards the cavern entrance in time to see the Lord Celeborn, carrying the limp form of his youngest son, being followed by Galadriel, Elrond, and Gandalf. None looked well, but his eyes were riveted to his son. He was about to cry out Legolas' name, when Aglarelen's voice echoed through the forest. His sorrow only added to Thranduil's and the King raced to Celeborn to take his son from the ancient warrior's arms.

"Legolas!" He called, then turned to Celeborn. "What has happened? Tell me!"  


Celeborn looked from Thranduil to Aglarelen and back again, finally releasing the Wood elf he cradled to the loving arms of his father. "We must see to his wound." Celeborn said little else, and urged Thranduil closer to the fire, where Glorfindel, Elrohir, and Elladan had prepared a place for Legolas.

Thranduil reluctantly placed his son by the fire, but refused to relinquish his hold on Legolas' hand. Elrond came near, examining Legolas' wound, and doing what he could to stop the bleeding as Thranduil watched.

**

  
Elrond stumbled blindly through the corridors, following Galadriel as closely as he was able. The third time he nearly walked into the wall, the Lady took his arm and led him from the caverns. He saw her casting a concerned eye over his weary frame more than once, but he ignored it. His thoughts were on his son and the Prince of Mirkwood. 

The battle with The Blue Wizard who had taken Legolas' body had been difficult, and he could only guess that he felt worse than the others because of the odd affliction that had kept him unconscious earlier. He had pushed that puzzle from his mind as he had sought his son's whereabouts, and battle, using Vilya, as well as the arrival of his sons, his wife's parents, and Gandalf, had kept him from considering what had happened. 

Now, his thoughts seemed once again to be his own, and he took advantage of it. Allowing Galadriel to lead him and Gandalf to walk behind on the lookout for orcs or others that might hinder their progress, Lord Elrond indulged himself. His mind grappled with the thought that something had intentionally caused the elves in his party to fall into that unnatural state. It must have been the Ithryn Luin, he was certain. They must have done this, but Alatar had claimed not to have harmed Legolas. If he had not cast the spell on the young prince and made him mortal and human, who had?

He could not help but wonder if the spell the Blue Wizards had cast might have caused some damage to some of their party. He remembered awakening and finding it impossible to bring the others from their stupor. It had been a difficult thing to leave them, but some urgency had taken hold of him and he could do nothing except to go after Estel.

Estel was now dying if Galadriel's words could be believed. He had no cause to think she was mistaken, and he had not had the chance to examine the wound as he would have liked. So concerned had he and Gandalf been with getting Estel and Legolas from the cave that he had made quick work of their initial treatmentand that had been before the encounter with Alatar's spirit! The field medicine he had employed was enough to make it possible to move them, but he had thought to reach the open air much more quickly. He would have seen the seriousness of Estel's head injury if they had only been able to leave this cursed cave!

The thought of the cave brought his attention back to his surroundings. He was about to vent his frustrations and let loose the preposterous thought that there was literally no way to leave this place, when he saw a faint glow ahead. 

  
When they finally exited the caverns into the twilight, he blinked his eyes at the sudden brightness, though he knew, soon enough, he would wish it to be brighter.

Elrond followed Celeborn, Galadriel's hand still on his arm. He blinked in surprise when Thranduil appeared before them demanding to know what had happened. Elrond watched as Celeborn passed Legolas to his father, and moved them towards the fire.

  
He took note of Estel, still and, silent, eyes closed, and face pale and wet with sweat. His heart launched itself from its rightful place in his chest and lodged itself firmly in his throat where he could neither spit it out nor swallow it down. He looked to Elladan and began to ask for the things he would need to stop Legolas' bleeding. The broken foot and other injuries would have to wait until Legolas was out of immediate danger. 

Blood still oozed from the deep wound Legolas had inflicted upon himself. Elrond had no idea what had been going through the young elf's mind, but, as a warrior would, he had known how best to debilitate his own body. The wound was deep and, he realized only now, Leoglas had twisted the blade. Had he presumed that only his own death would defeat the Wizard or had his instinct's, sharpened by years of battle with the Shadow in Mirkwood, taken over and forced him to treat himself as he might any enemy?

He would not be able to answer such questions unless Legolas himself decided to explain his thoughts. Elrond instead tried to find the right words and herbs, some water, and fresh bandages. It took some time and care, but soon the wound was properly cleaned and wrapped. A cursory examination of Legolas' broken foot proved it was indeed broken and not sprained. Nor was it the ankle. Rather it was one of the major bones in the foot itself that had snapped. He could not imagine how this had been done. It was difficult to set, and he had to rely on strong bandages, for a splint would do little in this instance. Thanking Eru that Legolas was not aware enough to feel the pain he must be causing, Elrond wrapped the foot, wincing a the sight of the bruised flesh. He was aware that Thranduil was watching his every move, but he did not allow this to distract him. Legolas received the same care Elrond would give his own sons. 

Estel had not been left untended, however. Galadriel and Elladan had done what they could for the man until Elrond was able to turn his full attention on his foster son. Elrond turned questioning eyes on Galadriel, unaccustomed to being the one asking about another's condition rather than the one being asked. It was not a feeling with which he was comfortable, and it was one he preferred not to experience again.

Galadriel turned to him, sadness in her eyes. "Estel is dying,"

"So you said inside." He gestured toward the cave. "Is there naught we can do?" 

She looked down at the man. "His future is unclear to me. It shifts and changes with each moment. Call to him, Elrond. Call him back from Shadow."

Elrond did as she bade him, his heart grasping desperately at the thought that his son could yet return from the brink of death. "Estel!" He called over and over, pleading with him to listen to him and return to the light. Soon, Elrohir and Elladan joined him in his pleas. The small camp became still as death itself as everyone present added their voices to the call.

**

Saruman watched King Thranduil as he cradled his youngest son. This was puzzling. When Thranduil had shrugged away his words of caution and declared that Saruman could not know how he felt because he was not an elf, Saruman had silently agreed. He could never understand the Sea Longing, and would never gainsay an elf on how it felt. If Thranduil were so set on finding his son and passing on the Kingship, he would not hinder him. Now, however, he began to wonder if he hadn't misread the situation. 

Thranduil had found his eldest and yet had held out against the pain of his Longing. The King had not even mentioned it to his eldest, and, when his youngest, looking more dead than alive, had appeared, he had raced to Legolas' side.

This was unexpected indeed. Had he misjudged? Had Thranduil's concern for his sons not had anything to do with the Sea Longing? He could not believe that he could be so mistaken. It could not be so! What excuse then? What kept Thranduil from explaining to Agalrelen that he would be leaving Middle-earth?

Realization hit him. It must be concern for Aglarelen who seemed distraught to the point of embarrassment over the fate of the young one. Perhaps Thranduil believed his eldest would not be ready to take the Kingship if something happened to his brother.

He thought this over for some time, but could not give the thought much credence. He would have to watch and wait. He stood by his horse, close enough to hear what the elven healers said, yet far enough away to observe everyone in the small camp.

He was so lost in thought that he did not notice Gandalf's approach until the Grey Wizard spoke. 

"We may yet need your help, Saruman. Some strange magic is at work here, and I find myself nearly spent with the effort of countering it." Gandalf leaned heavily upon his staff seeming like the old man dependent upon a walking stick that he so often feigned to be.

Saruman nodded, giving his underling hardly a glance. "I thought as much when I rode out to meet Thranduil. Tell me what you saw."

  
The White Wizard had no need of the Grey's interpretation of events, but it would give him some clue as to how he should play this game. Gandalf's words were slow and measured and not delivered with the frantic panic Saruman had heard in the Crown Prince's voice. He waited until Gandalf had drawn his own conclusions about what had happened and why before nodding sagely as if considering the words.

"It seems likely that the Ithryn Luin fell under some spell of the Dark Lord. Perhaps they meant to impress him with their power, or perhaps they were ordered to do as they had done. With both dead, it is unlikely we will ever know." He kept his gaze on the small knot of elves who still worked to revive Legolas and Estel.

Gandalf nodded. "I fear you are right, Saruman, but there is more here than simple injury." He nodded toward Legolas. "He has been touched by some evil intent and his elven nature has been stripped from him."

  
Saruman turned as if shocked by such news. "That is powerful magic indeed. I had not thought Alatar and Pallando capable of such a thing."

  
Gandalf nodded as though distracted. "No. Nor had I."

Saruman knew he had to tread carefully. Gandalf was not as clever as he, but the Grey Wizard could sometimes make astounding leaps of logic and decipher the most difficult knots of reasoning until he laid bare the answers he needed. "The human?" Saruman asked, shifting the topic of conversation so that he might still hide his involvement in the elf prince's affliction. "He has some head wound?"

Gandalf nodded and his eyes took on a sorrowful cast. "He does. I don't know precisely when or how he came by that, but it is bad."

Saruman nodded. "Perhaps you and I can help." The White Wizard led Gandalf back towards the prone form of the dying man. He could not determine if this Ranger was indeed the Heir of Isildur, but he could find a way to end his life.

  
  
To Be Continued

Joee1: Thank you! I'd like to accept this award on behalf of all fanfic writers who try desperately to keep their readers happy with quick updates. I couldn't have done it without each and every one of your reviews, and especially the ever-growing crowd camped on my doorstep! Hey guys! The snow finally melted! (Ecri eyes trophy, which is much taller than she is. Umcan Aragorn and Legolas give me a hand getting this inside?)

AM: Thanks! I find it easier to write this way. I just keep thinking I'm forgetting someone so I have to do more rereading this way, but it works! I'm glad you like it!

Silvertoekee: You're welcome. I'm going to try to keep the updates coming really quickly this week. It feels like the story might be winding down, and I'm giving my muse free reign to run where she will with it. I'm beginning to feel sorry for Legolas and Aragorn. My next story, I'm going to have to be nicer to them or they won't come out and play anymore!

  
Catherinexxix: Thank you! You know, I was I a bit intimidated to try to write Celeborn and Galadriel, but the more I write, the more I like them. Plus, I'm getting some positive feedback about them, so that's always a good thing! I'm glad you like them and Gandalf. I knowanother update! LOL! I'll keep them coming!

Deana: Hee! Sorry! More Leggy soon. I love both Legolas and Aragorn, and I don't want either of them to die, either!

Gwyn: Plenty more Elf angst to come. (I adore elf angst!) Next update soon!

Alexa: OkayI'll try to keep them coming quickly.

Anonymous: Thanks! 

Isadora2: Thanks! I know! It's almost writing itself. (Almostif it were I imagine I'd have posted a lot more by now!) I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Mcat: I stand corrected! More Legolas painyou don't think he's suffered enough? I was beginning to think I should ease up on the elf

Elven Kitten: Don't worry. Your Ranger is in good hands!

Templa Otema: Thank you! I'm blushing! I've mentioned before, but will again, I like the technique a lot. I just have to be careful about being over-repetitive. Otherwise, it's a lot of fun. I'm thrilled you liked the line about Legolas' battered and bruised fëa. Alatar's taunts were one way he was trying to maintain his control over Legolas, and I thought Legolas might be too concerned about the others whom he might hurt to be concerned about being called names by a bodiless Wizard. I love your interpretation of Saruman's character and your appreciation of what I'm doing with him. BTW, 2:00 in the morning is the best time for realizations, introspection, and philosophy!) Wow! I love it when people quote me back to me! That line about Legolas being the reason most of his family stayed in Middle-earth was a device of mine that I hoped would accentuate the familial relationship of these elves. We get so little about Legolas' background in the LOTR text, that I felt as though it would be all right for me to create a closeness different than that of Elrond to his children, yet with all the depth of love elves are meant to have for their offspring. Their children mean everything to them, and while having four children is unusual for an elf, I assumed that with the proximity of Dol Guldur, the growing shadow, and the threats of Mirkwood, Thranduil and his wife might have had more children. (Like they say people in certain areas of the world and especially in the not-too-distant past used to have as many children as they could because there was such a good chance that some of them would not live to adulthood. Just my spin on things.) Celeborn and Galadriel are becoming more and more a joy to write. I love elves. 

Grumpy: I'm begging the other characters to come through for the elves, not-elf, and the Ranger. With any luck someone will come through for me!

Strider's Girl: Sequel? Gee, I hadn't thought about that! If you like Aglarelen, you can read more about him and his relationship with Legolas in my fic Undying Lands. Just ignore some of the elvish as it is hideously wrong and I really need to fix it. Still, the poor elvish shouldn't detract too much from the story as long as you have an open mind. StillI guess I can come up with a sequelthough I do already have several other fic ideas I need to get to, plus my poor little POTC fic is waiting patiently to be finished!

White Wolf1: The speed of that last update took me by surprise, too. I've never written anything so quickly! You're welcome for the plug for your story. I really am enjoying it, and I'm dying for your next update. (Is that too subtle a hint? LOL!) The hardest thing I'm finding in writing Saruman is not giving too much away. It's desperately hard to avoid the temptation to allow one of these wise and wonderful characters to see through him! I can't go too far out of canon, though. I mean this might be considered slight AU, but I'd like it to be recognizable as Tolkien's world! Ah, the good Thranduil! I do so like that elf. He's not evil, no matter how so many fanfic authors choose to write him! I love him! Saving everyonewell, I don't know when that's gonna happen. It's up to my muse you see, and she ain't tellin'!

Sirithiliel, Jacklyn, leggylover03: Thanks! I'll update soon!

Tychen: I'm glad you were able to commandeer a laptop in order to read the chapter! I'm thrilled you liked it. I love writing the dynamic between Thranduil, Aglarelen, and Legolas. I'll update soon!

  
Cosmic Castaway: Ouch! Well, gee, I don't know how fast I can write with a concussion, but I'll see what I can do! 

  
Chloe Amethyst: Thanks! Celeborn can be persuasive, but there's plenty more of Glorfindel coming up. I was a little vague with Legolas' injury because I wasn't sure at first how serious it should be. Then I figured he wouldn't do anything by halfs, so it had better be pretty bad. I should go back and clear that up, but Cosmic Castaway might kill me if I backtrack too much! Yes, Saruman isn't as wise as he thinks he is, which will ultimately be the beginning of the end for him. He's got a Superior view of himself.


	20. part 20

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 20

By Ecri

Legolas heard the voices all around him calling to Estel, and he longed to join his own voice to such a cry. His body would not heed his commands, however, and, no matter how hard he struggled, there was no chance that he could do something even as simple as opening his eyes. 

He felt then a hand on his own left hand, and someone came behind him, shifting him slightly, gently, so that his battered body would lean against this solid strength. Another touch upon his right hand, and another solid presence on that side of him and he was bathed in that longed for feeling of security he'd thought he'd lost forever. He lost himself for some time–a moment or a year, he could not tell–as he drifted in this comfort, this warmth, this soothing feeling that impregnable protection surrounded him. 

A voice called out to him then, softly, but urgently, seeking some sign that he yet lived beyond the shallow breath that was all the movement he could accomplish. "Legolas," the voice called. A familiar voice to be sure, which lent itself to this cloak of safety he felt wrapped around him.

"Legolas, come, my son, awake."

Sonson? The voicecould it behe struggled to open his eyes, but failing once again, thought of speaking. His throat was sore and felt as though something was lodged there still, but, trying to ignore this, he swallowed and tried to speak.

"Ada" He croaked out the word, his voice sounding all the more human to his ears for its hoarseness.

  
The grips on both his hands tightened slightly. He cleared his throat, but instead of improving his voice, he began to choke as the utter dryness of it demanded water.

He felt a cup placed to his lips. A trickle of clear cold water touched his throat and he began to gulp greedily. "Easy, my son!" The voice was alarmed and Legolas almost smiled, but he had not the strength for such a thing. "You must not drink too much at once."

Forcing his eyes open regardless of how they fought him, Legolas looked up into his father's face. He could barely believe it. "Ada?" He whispered the word again unintentionally making it a question.

Thranduil smiled. "Yes, my son, I am here." 

Legolas watched Thranduil look across him to someone else even as he heard another familiar voice. 

"Legolas, it is good to see you awake."

Legolas heard his brother's voice and turned too quickly towards it aggravating a pain in his head that he had felt for so long that he had managed to forget it, accepting it as normal. "Aglarelen!" He squeezed his brother's hand. "How did you wake from that unnatural sleep?"  


He saw his brother cast a wary look at his father, and realized it was a look he had not seen in decades. It was one his brother wore whenever he had been caught trying to keep something from his father. "Ada, I"

"Later, my son." The King whispered, and Legolas smiled to hear the light, teasing tone. "I will hear all about the things you have kept from me once Legolas is well." 

Legolas coughed again, the pain of it forcing his eyes shut. When it was at last dispelled, he took a shallow breath. With a start, the young prince sat up, ignoring the pain and protests of his family. "Estel!" He looked with wide eyes at his father. "How is Estel? I heard voices calling to him! Is he well?"

  
When his father refused to answer, he began to struggle until Thranduil finally spoke. "Hush, my son. He is being cared for."

"Where? Where is he?" When Thranduil did not reply, Legolas called out to his friend. "_Estel? Estel, mellonin_!"

Thranduil gestured to Aglarelen and the two carefully maneuvered Legolas into a position from which he could look upon Estel even as the others tended his injuries. Legolas watched in fear as his dearest friend seemed not to respond. 

**

  
Saruman approached the human trying to appear concerned for the young man's life. He needed to get closer to the whelp to be able to attempt this spell. It would not tax him overmuch if he were close enough to lay his hands upon the young man. Any great distance between him and his target and perhaps the use of magic might be detected. The others had crowded around the youth in their fear for him, and certainly his own assistance would be lauded.

He listened to the elves and Gandalf as they spoke of their worries, whispered of medicines, and conferred over treatments. Always there was a fear behind Elrond's eyes, which astonished Saruman. He had known Elrond had taken the child in long ago, but why so much worry for one man? It was no matter to him, however. The Lord of Imladris could take in whatever pets he wished.

Elrond, of all the Elf Lords, had always shown an inappropriate interest in the World of Men. Saruman had presumed it was out of some remnant of loyalty to his centuries dead brother. Elros' choice, some said, haunted the Elf Lord to this day, and Saruman found it puzzling. To choose a mortal life when immortality was yours for the asking was stupefying to Saruman's mind. 

Saruman watched as Gandalf assessed Estel's condition, then waited for the Grey Wizard to defer to his judgement. When Gandalf looked at him, a question plain in his eyes, Saruman placed a hand on Aragorn's chest, closed his eyes, and forced a frown upon his face so that they who watched him would assume he was troubled over the Ranger's condition. 

  
The White Wizard delved deep into the man's mind. He found a surprising strength of will, and found it more difficult than he had expected to keep himself unnoticed. Not that it truly mattered, as there was only one way this could end. 

The Wizard sifted through memories, waded through fears and nightmares, and yet he could find no way to confirm this Estel as Heir of Isildur. No matter. If he was, the man would die soon, and that problem would be eliminated. If he was not, he would still die soon, and Sauron would be none the wiser when Saruman reported that the Future King had been killed.

Ignoring the Ranger's mind, Saruman focused on his heart. He sought the rhythm of the body, and, when he had found it, he disrupted it. It was a simple spell to cast, but it would be difficult, even for a Maia, to trace the problem back to the intervention of magic. Human hearts were so fragile after all. Once the heartbeat became irregular, the skipped beats would only increase. By morning, the man would be no more.

Saruman pulled his hand away and allowed a look of sadness to cloud his eyes. "There is naught we can do. He is dying." He laced the words with grief, with compassion, and with the smallest hint of disbelief to convey that he had been certain he could help. He would laugh over the gullibility of elves once he was safely in Orthanc.

**

Aragorn was adrift in pain. He sensed naught but the pounding in his head. He felt it with each breath, with each beat of his heart. So distracted was he by this agony that he almost missed the strange sensation when it came. It was a subtle thing at first; the disturbing touch of a small insect crawling upon your arm; the feather-light caress of a line of webbing from a spider web hanging in the branches of Mirkwood.

Then it grew, and the ferocity of it made him struggle. He felt as though he was backed into a corner trying in vain to escape the inescapable. Something held him more firmly than a web. Something walked through his mind more insidiously then an insect might stroll across his bare skin. 

It sought something from him. It tore at his mind and seemed not to care what disarray and destruction it left in its wake. He felt violated as this force, this vile evil, moved through his mind, his memories, and became more and more determined to force some secret from him.

He concentrated on his mind, imagining walls around his most treasured memories. The ones he built around his love for Arwen and around his true identity as Heir of Isildur he imagined unassailable. In truth, he knew the only secret worth possessing about him was the carefully guarded secret of his lineage. If that were discovered, his love for Arwen, and hers for him, could become a more insidious weapon than orc poison. 

Desperation to shield himself, to keep safe all that he loved, drove him. More sturdy than the Tower of Ecthelion, more enduring than the thickest rock walls, stronger then mithril, he built the walls around himselfaround his identity, his secrets, and his love. With each passing moment, the walls became thicker and sturdier, and he hoped only to feel the intruder leave him. The more impregnable his defenses, however, the more insidious was the enemy. Each time he thought he had won, the assault would begin again. 

It has to end soon, he thought. _Ada! Help me!_ His cries went unanswered. 

He felt the sensation shift again, but he could not trust it and did not cease. He continued to build the walls of his defense, and when he could conceive of no way to make them stronger, he huddled behind them pleading Eru to protect him.

He felt the strange alteration in the rhythm of his heart but was neither immediately nor consciously aware of it. After a few moments, however, the increased irregularity was hard to ignore.

Pain shot out from his heart, and Aragorn wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and lose himself to it, but fear stopped him. Fear held him firm. What if this were some distraction? What if the pain was meant to draw his attention from the defenses he'd built? What if someone sought the Heir of Isildur and thought, perhaps, it was him? He could not let such a thing be revealed. He made a choice sure he would never know if it was genius or foolhardiness. He clung to the pain as he would to a raft on a swiftly flowing river until it robbed him of conscious thought.

**

Celeborn knew there was little he could do. He was no healer, and Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir were quite capable of healing their young oneassuming he could be healed. He watched from a short distance away, concern creasing his brow when young Estel failed to respond. The worry in his wife's eyes told him things did not go well for the Hope of Men.

He was relived to see Gandalf approach the small group, but Saruman's approach surprised him. Saruman was not considered a healer. Gandalf on occasion had practiced the healing arts, but Saruman showed little interest in such things preferring to study ancient lore. 

  
Celeborn drifted closer watching the two Wizards. Saruman held a hand out over Estel and placed it upon his chest. His eyes were closed, and it seemed the Istar could sense the human's condition. With a great and weary sigh, Saruman, the image of sorrow, spoke to the elves. "There is naught that we can do. He is dying."

"NO!"

The voice was loud and assured and so unexpected that every head swiveled to look at he who had spoken. Legolas, unable to hold himself erect–still cradled by his father and brother–looked defiantly at the White Wizard. "That cannot be so! He _must_ live! He _will _live!" He tore his eyes from the Istar's face and directed his next words to Aragorn. 

"Estel!" He spoke in tones so loud that Celeborn's eyes grew wide. The young prince had always been so soft spoken that he would never have guessed him capable of so stentorian a tone, especially given his current state of exhaustion. "_Estel! Lasto beth nin! Tolo dan nan galad! Tolo, gwadornin! Tolo dan nan galad_!"

Celeborn's attention drifted back to Elrond, whom he could not help but look upon as a son. As Legolas continued to speak, Elrond's anxiety seemed to melt away to be replaced by something else. When Elrond looked up and caught Celeborn's eye, Celeborn knew what change the Prince had wrought. If Legolas' cries had not revived his friend, they had certainly stirred Lord Elrond's determination to see his son live.

  
Celeborn stepped closer to the knot of elves and wizards that encircled the Ranger, and asked softly if there was anything he could do.

Elrond nodded. "I will need to bring more medicines." With that he rose, and gestured for Celeborn to sit where he had been. Celeborn did and, taking Aragorn's hand, looked to his wife. Galadriel offered him a small smile, a slight nod, and took Aragorn's other hand.

  
Quietly, with no one the wiser, the two ancient elves offered their grace to this young Ranger who had touched the lives of their family. The Lord and Lady, speaking spirit to spirit, sought to strengthen the mortal's tenuous hold on life.

__

Come, Estel. You cannot leave Middle-earth this way. Celeborn could not say if Aragorn would hear his thoughts, but he offered them anyway.

Estel moaned. 

Celeborn spoke loudly, using his most commanding tone. "Estel Elrondion, your life cannot yet end! _Tolo dan nan galad_!"

Galadriel did not speak aloud, choosing instead to offer her own words directly to Aragorn's heart and mind. _Elessar I have named you and Elessar you shall be. Do not throw away this life you have barely begun to lead. Tolo dan nan galad._ _Am meleth dînam Arwen Undomieltolo dan nan galad_. (Come back to the light. For her lovefor Arwen Undomielcome back to the light.)

Celeborn did not know how long they remained with Estel, but he became aware of Elrond rejoining them and of the sweet smell of athelas and the clean aroma of other healing herbs, which Elrond used to chase Shadow and treat the bruised body of his son.

When at last they heard Elrond's authoritative voice commanding Estel not to give in to the darkness, Celeborn and Galadriel opened their eyes.

  
Celeborn felt the hand he held, Estel's hand, squeeze his own. He smiled at the progress they had made. He looked to Galadriel who merely nodded, but he knew what that nod meant. Estel had not given up. He was fighting for his life.

**

Elrond knelt by Estel's side, his mind automatically ticking off which herbs in what combinations he should try should his current attempt bring about no change in his son. He was glad for the company of Galadriel, Celeborn, and of Gandalf, for, even if they could do nothing, their silent support bolstered him.

Elrond placed a hand on Estel's head, feeling for changes. He was barely aware of Saruman's approach, and, as the White Wizard asked after Estel's condition, Elrond was seized by the unshakable conviction that his son would die.

His thoughts were confirmed when Saruman, checking Estel for himself, made his own dire diagnosis. "There is naught that we can do. He is dying."

"NO!"

Elrond whipped around to stare at Legolas whom he had not known was conscious. Though he was weak and pale, the strength in Legolas' eyes, the passion of his convictions, shook the Elf Lord, making him blink as though coming awake from some strange dream. 

Legolas spoke again. Trembling with barely contained rage at the White Wizard who had announced his friend's imminent end, Legolas spit his words at the Istar. "That cannot be so! He _must_ live! He _will_ live!" He tore his eyes from the Istar's face and directed his next words to Aragorn. "Estel!" He cried, and Elrond glanced at Celeborn seeing that the Lord shared his surprise at the sheer strength in Legolas' voice as the young prince's words echoed through Middle-earth. "_Estel! Lasto beth nin! Tolo dan nan galad! Tolo, gwadornin! Tolo dan nan galad_!"

Elrond blinked rapidly shaking his head. He had developed a minor ache behind his eyes, and as it increased, so, too, did his conviction that Legolas was right. Estel must live.

Designating Lord Celeborn to take his place by Estel's side, Elrond busied himself with his herbs and mixtures wondering why he had thought to give up on his son so soon. He would normally not have thought of such a thing, and certainly, if he had, his twins would have berated him for it. Instead, Elladan had agreed with Saruman that there was little they could do. Elrohir, on the other hand, still pleaded with Estel to awaken.

It wasn't until Elrond had heard Legolas' voice–Legolas, whom he had assumed was near death himself!–that he had realized that there were still some things he could try. Aragorn must be allowed every chance to recover.

As he worked, the Lord of Imladris became aware of Glorfindel sitting by the fire, and only then did he realize how late it had become. "Are you well, my friend?" His question seemed to take his dear friend by surprise for Glorfindel appeared startled. 

"I am well. Tend to your son. When you have cured Estel, look to Elrohir, and do not let him tell you he is fine." 

Glorfindel's words stopped Elrond's heart. He looked at Elrohir, who sat near his young brother, pleading with Estel to return to them. He had not given up.

He blinked then in surprise when he noted that Saruman had moved. It seemed sudden and strange, but Saruman must have followed Elrond when he left his son's side to fix more medicine. Saruman was at his elbow and the Istar's eyes were on him. When the White Wizard spoke, he used sympathetic words telling Elrond to look to Elrohirthat Elrond must save the living before they joined the dead. 

  
Fear gripped him. He could not lose Estel and Elrohir both! Frantic eyes searched Elrohir for some sign or clue that would bear out both Saruman's and Glorfindel's words as well as his own fear. His son seemed well, but there was something about him. There was a look of great fatigue around the eyes, and, every few moments, he seemed to shake his head as though to clear it. Yes, Elrohir needed attention. 

A hand reached up and gripped his arm hard enough to leave bruises. Elrond looked to the source of that surprisingly firm grip and saw Glorfindel looking up at him with a reassuring smile. "See to him after you have saved Estel, Elrond. You run out of time."

  
Elrond nodded, unsure what had happened. His thoughts for Estel had raced from his mindfor Elrohir's sake, certainly, but still, his worry for Elrohir had seemed abruptly to grow to encompass his entire being. Glorfindel's touch had shifted his perspective back again, butwho was to say which son should be tended first? 

__

I am to say! I am a healer! Elrond berated himself and blamed his strange state on the spell of the Blue Wizards, though he was not certain that truly was the source of his peculiarly shifting thoughts. 

Shaking himself, he rushed once more to Estel's side. Administering no small amount of athelas onto the more serious wounds, he then held a small cup–a combination of water and several potent plants–to Aragorn's lips and forced him to drink. It took some help from Celeborn, but between the two, they were able to get the Ranger to drink every drop.

  
"I have done what I can." Elrond whispered, the cup still in his hand and his body slumped.

Saruman stepped closer to Elrond and reached out a hand to assist the Elf Lord in rising. "No one can do more than that. He will live or die now by Iluvatar's will."

Elrond nodded, feeling an odd sense of defeat and despair wash over him. Why Saruman's words should so affect him, he could not say, but they had. Elrond felt he had not the smallest hope that Estel would live. 

The emotional extremes to which he found himself subject dizzied him. Intense and often contrary thoughts warred for dominance within him, and Elrond found his strength waning quickly. 

His gaze fell upon Elrohir, and he remembered Glorfindel's words. "Elrohir, are you well?"

Elrohir nodded, but before he could say a word, Elrond cut him off. "The truth my son."

Elrohir closed his mouth and considered his answer. "I know not. I seem not myself. My perceptions seem off. Things go too slowly, or else I do. Ior perhaps the things around meseem to go either at great speed or at the most languid pace I could imagine."

  
Elrond frowned as Elrohir stopped. "What of your head?"

"Ithurts." Elrohir finished lamely. He looked a bit puzzled. "How did you know I was not myself?"

"Glorfindel"

"Glorfindel?" Elrohir cut off his father's words. "He suffers the same malady!"

Elrond turned to face a chagrined Glorfindel. 

"I did not lie." He claimed. "I merely assumed that if you could cure him, I would then be able to ask you to give me the same remedy."

Elrond smiled. He would have laughed, but he lacked the energy. Wearily, the Lord looked from his son to his friend and back again. Gesturing for Elrohir to seat himself beside Glorfindel, he took a seat in front of them. "Tell me everything."

**

Gandalf watched Saruman as the White Wizard assessed the wounded Ranger. He had wished for Saruman's presence as he had fought Alatar, but he had not dared hope the other Maia would appear. It seemed a great gift.

His troubled eyes lingered on the Ranger, this Hope of Men, knowing that few in Middle-earth knew the truth of it. Elrond and his family knew, most certainly, and Legolas and his family knew as well. He smiled at that thought. The bonds of friendship these two most reluctant princes of Middle-earth had forged surpassed any thought of hiding such things. The loyalty between the two was unshakable, and, Gandalf knew, would serve each in good stead.

Aside from those few, and the one or two of the Dúnedain, Estel's identity as Heir of Isildur was a well-guarded secret. He had forbidden each who knew from passing the knowledge along. Already, too many knew this thing for his liking, and he would not have each pass the secret along to one other trusted friend, who might also pass it on in the same way. Everyone trusted someone, and it took only one who was not worthy of such trust to cause the ruin of all.

He had not told anyone himself of Estel's secret, including Saruman, the head of his order. Why he was reticent to share this secret he could not say, but, as in all things, he followed Iluvatar's will. He could think of no reason not to tell The White Wizard, but whenever in the past he had tried, the words would not come, and the secret remained unshared. 

As he heard Saruman's reluctant words that Aragorn would die, he felt a great sorrow and depression engulf him, which was only partially dispelled by Legolas' cry. He could expect nothing else from the gentle soul. Bedraggled and beaten, wounded and weak, Legolas' first thought would forever be for the reluctant would-be King. Fellowship had grown between the two that rivaled any he had ever witnessed in all his long years. Saruman's words, however, could not be gainsaid. Gandalf had no cause to doubt it. If Saruman said Estel would die, it was unlikely the Ranger would live to see morning.

As Legolas insisted otherwise he felt an irrational hope blossom in his own soul. Why that should be so was a puzzle, but it was as though Legolas' words came from an authority even higher than Saruman. _Preposterous,_ Gandalf thought, and yet

  
The Grey Wizard cast a critical eye over the injured Prince of Mirkwood. If only he had strength enough to examine Legolas now and determine what had stolen his immortal, elven nature. There was no familiar elven glow. He had indeed lost the Light of the Eldar. His labored breathing, his slow healing, the obvious intensity of the pain that wracked his frame no matter how he tried to hide it from those who loved himall proved him human.

What, then, would give a formerly elven human any insight into Estel's condition? Was it wishful thinking? Relatively unfamiliar with the concept of death was Legolas merely unwilling to taste that most bitter draught of the human experience? Was he projecting grief and fear when he demanded that Estel could not die?

Legolas turned then and his eyes locked on Gandalf's. Elf-turned-human and Wizard stared for some time into the depth of each other's souls. Gandalf was quick to note that Legolas' _fëa_ seemed better than it had in the cave. He did not know if being inside the cave could have hurt one who was no longer an elf, but being in the open air certainly seemed to help. He put a question in his eyes, and Legolas, with a slight nod and a slighter upwards curve of the corners of his mouth–more of a suggestion of a smile than a smile itself–gave him the permission he sought.

He examined Legolas' spirit as he had not been able to since breaking the connection inside the cavern when he had gathered his strength to destroy Alatar. He was pleased with what he found. Legolas' _fëa_ still showed some sign of his recent experience, but the healing was rapid. Strength was what he felt, and, though there was little of it, it was growing.

__

You are healing, Legolas. Gandalf did not expect an answer, and, when he got one, he smiled. This young one had spent his life surprising those around him.

__

Estel? Is Estel healing as well?

Gandalf's smile grew. _Are your thoughts always for others, young prince, or is it something about this man that draws your loyalty?_ In Legolas' reply, the Grey Wizard heard his unshakable conviction.

__

He is well. He will be well. 

__

How do you know this? Gandalf had to know.

Gandalf could not have been more surprised by the next words Legolas uttered. 

__

How do you not know it?

After saying so, Legolas' _fëa_ seemed to soar, strength pouring back into it from only Eru knew where. Gandalf watched in amazement as Legolas' certainty, loyalty, and convictionhis very faith in all in which he believedopened to him instantly. If it had been a light, the very glow of it would have blinded Gandalf. If it had been warmth, the very heat would have melted his bones. The gift then, of this particular child of Eru was in his faith. Once kindled, it seemed nigh impossible to alter it in any way. He believed Estel would be well, and truly could not comprehend why anyone would say or think otherwise. It was a gift surely, but Gandalf could not help but wonder, if he believed so resolutely in such things, what scars would he bear if the unthinkable were to happen?

If someone he believed would not die, did in fact move on to the next life, would this young one then follow, or would he live irrevocably altered in the face of such a thing that he must surely view as betrayal? 

He sighed heavily, weary from the turnings of his own mind. Legolas was right and that was all he need consider at the moment. Estel, the Hope of Men, could not be allowed to slip away without every effort being made to save him. He could forgive Saruman's words, for, by Gandalf's own failures–or Eru's will–Saruman knew not of whom he spoke. 

Gandalf looked to Elrond who had even now moved off to mix another of his medicines as Celeborn took his place offering what comfort could be offered to a man whose awareness was questionable.

Once Elrond returned, Gandalf tried to touch Aragorn's _fëa_ in much the way he had touched Legolas'. As Elrond's elixir was forced down the man's throat, Gandalf sought some hint that the man's recovery was imminent. Instead, he felt nothing. 

  
The Ranger yet breathed, and his heart seemed still to beat, though with a growing irregularity, but why then could Gandalf find no hint of his intelligence, his spirit, his identity? His _fëa_ was gone. It was as though Elrond worked to heal an empty shell.

To Be Continued

Joee1: and thenthis? Hope you liked it!

Fire Eagle: Thanks! Next chapter soon, too!

Mcat: Glad to hear it! Okay, I won't let up!

Strider's Girl: I can't have everyone figuring out Saruman is evil before Tolkien intends them to find out. Well, maybe I canI don't know. I have to think about it. 

Silvertoekee: Saruman's sneaky, isn't he? Thanks for the review. I hope you like this chapter!

Tychen: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like the characters! Plenty more to come! 

Leggylover03: Sorrycan't help it. Cliffie's Anonymous doesn't really help.

Grumpy: Yeah, I've got some plans for Glorfindel!

  
Catherinexxix: Thank you thank you thank you! I'm glad you like Thranduil and the other characters and relationships. It means a lot. I'm forever trying to find a balance between emotion and action, and I'm a little close to the story and can't always tell if I'm doing it. Thanks again! Hope you liked this chapter.

White Wolf1: Thanks! I wanted to put in more about the brothers left behind in Mirkwood, but the muse is demanding! I'm glad you liked what I did include! Saruman always overestimates himself! More of him in future chapters.

Isadora2: Thanks! Wow, your review was good for my ego! Yes, it is pure bliss when a story takes over like this one has, only I can't seem to type fast enough to keep up with the thoughts in my head! 

Asha Dreamweaver: I won't know that for a while. My muse is rather tight-lipped. I'm glad you like the story. Thanks for reviewing.

Jadesaber: Thanks! I'm thrilled you like it! Thanks for reviewing. More soon!

Gwyn: Thanks! Thranduil is becoming rather popular! Glad you like it!

Chloe Amethyst: You've got me blushing! Thanks! I work really hard on those family relationships, and it means so much when it comes through to the reader! Elrond has been through the ringer. He's had a lot to deal with, and neither son is out of the woods yet! I haven't decided yet if Legolas will remember what Saruman did, but I do have some plans for Saruman!

  
Elven Kitten: Aww. You don't really think I'd kill him, do you? 

Templa Otmena: Thanks! You're reviews are wonderful! Longer than some fic chapters I've read! Hee! There's definitely more with Elrohir and Glorfindel. I'm still working out some of the details, but there will be more in the next couple of chapters. (LOL! I've never been called a "canny" author before! I like it! Oh, I suppose that wasn't really a compliment? Hee!) I'm thrilled you like the little lines you keep quoting back to me! It makes my day when some line particularly resonates with someone. To me, the emotional level, the emotional involvement in a story is what draws me. I guess that's why I write it this way! I love that you love Legolas' family and the way I've written them. Especially since most of them are OC, and based only on what I've read about elves in general and then projected onto the situation in Mirkwood and what little (frustratingly little) Tolkien tells us about Legolas and Thranduil. LOL! I can see you do tend to dissect Saruman's character! Glad to oblige! This fic will be a learning experience for him, because there is a lot he's misinterpreting. Thanks so much for taking the time to give me such a detailed review! It's always a joy to read what you've got to say!


	21. part 21

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

I'm sorry this chapter took longer than you're all used to. This one's a little more complicated, and I had to be careful how I worded several passages. I know I said the story might be winding down, but I'm not so sure that's the case. Anyway, enjoy the chapter and please review!

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 21

By Ecri

Gandalf stared at the face of this Ranger, this man who saw his destiny as a curse, and wondered if the Enemy had finally succeeded. Aragorn yet lived, or at least his body did. Yet inside, there wasnothing. 

Gandalf searched his mind for some precedent, but he could not recall having read about, heard of, or encountered such a thing before. He had seen serious injury before. Indeed, he had seen injuries that left men's spirits trapped inside useless bodies that would not heed their will. In all those instances, however, he had never found anything to suggest that mind and spirit would flea a body and leave behind an empty husk.

Puzzled, and, truth be told, rather fearful of what this might portend, Gandalf glanced to Celeborn and Galadriel, but they wore puzzled expressions of their own. Elrond, the Grey Wizard noted, worked tirelessly, forcing some elixir of sorts down Estel's throat with Celeborn's help. Only when he had finished, did the Peredhel reach out to touch his son as Gandalf had done. 

Shock, surprise, and fear warred for dominance on Elrond's face as the Elf Lord realized he could not reach Estel. The Wizard saw each emotion as it flitted across the elven eyes and waited for the inevitable.

"Mithrandir"

"I know not what causes this, my friend." The Grey looked then to the White, hoping for some insight he did not himself possess.

Saruman stepped forward. "Has the medicine not helped?"

Gandalf explained what he had felt, or, rather, what he had not felt. Saruman nodded. "I see." He was silent for some time, and Gandalf feared he was so lost in thought that they might not receive any instructions at all.

  
Shortly, the White Wizard turned to Gandalf. "We should rest this night. Perhaps we may cure the human in the morning, not to mention those others among us who may yet be injured. He is in no immediate physical danger, and the situation may right itself once his body has had time to absorb the medicines it has been given."

Reluctantly, all present began to nod in assent, and move about the camp intent on finding rest.

Gandalf, most reluctant of all, moved silently towards Thranduil. There he saw just what he expected to see. Legolas stared up at him from the safe circle of his father's embrace. "How is he, Gandalf? Is he healing?"

The Elf-turned-human had all the answer he needed written plainly in Gandalf's eyes, but he would not accept it. "Nay! Mithrandir, do not give up! He will be well. He will live!" Weakly, the prince struggled as though to rise, but he failed in this. Instead he raised eyes to his father. "Adahelp me to go to him"

  
Thranduil cut him off. "You will rest right here, my son." 

  
Gandalf's heart bled for the young prince, who ever wore his pain upon his face unless he remembered to conceal it well. He nodded in support of Thranduil's words. "Listen to your father, young one. Saruman is right. It has been a tiring day. Estel is out of danger for now, and tomorrowwell, it is another day, isn't it?"

  
He felt his words woefully inadequate, but he had no others to offer. The fight with Alatar, the flight through the caverns, and the fright of Estel's condition had all taken its toll. At this moment, Gandalf felt every one of the long years he had lived. 

**

Aglarelen watched Legolas long after his father had fallen asleep. He felt the fear and worry rolling off his young sibling in waves, and knew, like he knew his own name, that Legolas would not be stopped.

Sure enough, after Thranduil had fallen into a deep elven sleep, exhausted, mentally and physically, by his mad dash through Middle-earth to find his sons, Legolas stirred. 

Aglarelen watched the youngling, shocked, though impressed by his determination. Legolas, shifted and squirmed, moving in minute increments and resting, then beginning again. After some time, he was able to pull gently away from Thranduil on hands and knees, but there his strength gave out. Quivering limbs refused to support his weight and dropped him to the ground. Aglarelen actually winced when he saw that the force of falling onto his wound had driven all air from his brother's lungs. He was by Legolas' side in an instant. 

"Legolas, it you are trying to open your wound again, you are doing a fine job." His voice was a hushed whisper, but he spoke close to Legolas' now human ear so that he could be certain he was heard.

Legolas looked fearfully up at his brother. When he could take in enough air to speak, he did so, clutching Aglarelen's arm in a fierce grip. "I need to see him, Aglarelen! I must see Estel with my own eyes."

"You can see him from where you were, my brother! You wish to _help_ him. Though, what makes you think you can do what the best healers in elvendom cannot" He paused, noting the look in his brothers eyes. Voice and heart softened instantly. "Ah, Greenleaf" Gently, he lifted his brother and carried him to his friend's side.

  
The gratitude in Legolas' face melted to worry when he looked at Estel. "Estel?" Legolas looked back to his brother. "Ada would not tell me what was wrong. He will be well." 

He spoke with conviction, and Aglarelen settled sadly beside him. "Do you truly believe that, my brother?"

  
Legolas nodded.

"The why do you look at him with such fear in your eyes?"

Legolas allowed a sheepish smile. "I do not know if _he_ knows it. I have heard of men affecting their destiny if they do not believe in it."

Aglarelen laughed. "Well, how do you propose we find out?"

Legolas seemed to consider the words. "I do not know."

"Take his hand. Speak to him." Aglarelen knew not why he said such a thing. It could not help. Legolas was not elven any longer, nor a healer. He could not pass his own grace to the human, nor could he mix up some forgotten combination of plants to make an elixir that would do better than Lord Elrond's own concoctions. Whatever powers he did not possess, however, were nothing to the one he did possess. There was one thing Legolas had never lost. Faltered, perhaps, in the darkest of moments, and then only in reference to himself. It was his faith—most especially his faith in others. He believed in Aragorn, and he could bring a person back from the brink of an abyss by believing in him. Such was the power of the faith of Legolas Thranduilion.

Aglarelen could recall a time not that long ago, as elves reckon such things, when he had himself languished under the care of Mirkwood's healers. An uncommon combination of spider venom and a severe gash from an orc blade had all but taken him to Mandos' Hall. It was Legolas who whispered to him to return. It was Legolas who was somehow by his bed each time he'd drifted awake still fighting pain and illness. It was Legolas who told Aglarelen over and over again that it was not yet time for him to leave Middle-earth and that when he did leave these shores, it would be to go to the Undying Lands rather than to the Halls of Mandos.

He had felt then that Legolas had somehow maintained a hold on his _fëa_ refusing to allow him to leave. "You can help him find his way, my Greenleaf." 

Aglarelen watched his brother's face as he took Estel's hand in his own. After a moment or two, Legolas frowned. He bent closer to the man then and called to him_. "Estel, mellonin"_ But whatever other words Legolas used, Aglarelen could not hear then. 

After a few moments, Legolas began to tremble, and Aglarelen assumed he had pushed himself too far. Taking his brother by the shoulders, he was surprised anew at how cold he seemed. Aglarelen, for all his acceptance of his brother's condition, found himself forgetting it from time to time. No elf felt the cold like this, especially as this was such a warm night.

"Legolas?" He called his brother's name several times, and shook the lithe frame, but could not wake him. Fear gripped his heart. He did not wish to disturb everyone, but could not bear to leave his brother's side to rouse only Elrond and Thranduil. The notion that he was the only thing tying Legolas and Aragorn to Arda, silly as it was, would not leave him.

Calling out in a clear voice, he roused the others. "Ada! Lord Elrond! Help them!" He did not have to repeat himself. In no time at all, Thranduil and Elrond knelt by their sons. Both fathers questioned Aglarelen, but he felt his answers woefully inadequate in light of what unfolded before him.

Gandalf stepped closer. His presence neither demanding nor brusque. He was there to help if they would allow it. 

  
Aglarelen saw Elrond nod and gesture to the pair. Legolas had been moved, but his white-knuckled grip upon Estel's hand could not be loosened. Mumbling like a restless sleeper, Legolas repeated over and again, "_Estel! Im si! Si boe ú-dhannathach_!" (Estel. I'm here! You cannot falter now!)

He looked to his father, confused at Legolas' words, but Thranduil only shook his head. It was plain that whatever Legolas spoke of none here knew what it could be.

**

Elrond was startled from a restless, dreamlike state. Sitting up before he was fully aware, his head swiveled of its own accord to the source of the sound. It was Aglarelen sitting by Estel andLegolas? When he had retired for the evening, knowing he would get little rest, Legolas had been asleep by his father's side. A quick look toward a disoriented Thranduil revealed he was as surprised as Elrond that he was not holding his youngest child.

Leaping to his feet, the Lord of Imladris made his way nimbly to the trio. He placed a hand on his son's head, alarmed to find it cold. Estel had always been healthy. It was the gift to the Numenor that, along with long life, they would suffer no illness, but fever could come after severe injury. The coolness was startling, and he could think of no reason for it, though the cold of human death came quickly to mind. Frantically, he examined his son more closely to be sure he yet lived.

  
Satisfied that he was alive, if only barely, Elrond turned his attention to Legolas. The prince held tight to Estel's hand, and seemed to have fallen by his side. Mumbling as though fevered himself, he was pleading with Estel not to falter. Elrond frowned and checked the Prince's head as well, finding him as cool to the touch as Estel. 

He turned to Aglarelen. "What happened?"

Aglarelen, stumbling over the words, explained Legolas' worry over Estel, and his certainty that the Ranger would be well if he could be made to believe in himself. As the Lord questioned Aglarelen, Gandalf approached from behind.

Elrond looked at the Wizard. He was out of his element here, and well he knew it. He was skilled in healing arts, but he had been baffled by Estel's condition earlier. He was no less so now. He gestured to the friends and stepped aside to make room for the Istar.

Gandalf held a hand out over the two, and, as he did so, Saruman approached. He did not offer help, but stood on the fringe of the group, observing, and, Elrond was sure, ready to assist if called upon. Knowing there were two Wizards—two Maiar—ready to assist in this dark hour eased his mind, though, oddly, not his heart.

The Elf Lord turned his attention back to Gandalf and their patients. Gandalf's eyes were closed. A frown grew even as he opened them again. "It is not improved. Indeed, it is quite worse. Estel isnot hereyet Legolaslooks for him."

Elrond heard the word, but did not listen to Thranduil's reply, remembering what Gandalf had said earlier when Saruman had advised them to rest. Rest! What had he been thinking? How could he think of resting when his son was in such a state? Elrohir had urged him to continued, but had not been able to offer a suggestion as to what treatment could counter such an odd affliction. Glorfindel, too, had been reluctant to see them cease their trials, but in the end had supported the plan, though Elrond felt certain that was more from his friend's ages old desire to see Elrond Half-elven take better care of himself.

  
Legolas alone would not be dissuaded. Long after the others had fallen asleep or lost themselves in their thoughts. Elrond had heard the youngling pleading with his father to allow him to go to his friend. 

Somehow, he must have done just that.

Elrond looked up into the night sky not aware he was searching for his father's star until his eyes found it. He had no words this night. No pleas for salvation or succor crossed his mind or his lips. Sometimes, just seeing Eärendil was enough to comfort his raging heart and clear his clouded mind. 

He inhaled deeply noting the scent of athelas, clean and invigorating, still hung in the air. The calming effect of star and scent gave Elrond strength to speak once again, and he turned to Gandalf. "What are we to do?""

Gandalf seemed about to speak, but Saruman stepped forward and spoke first. "What are we to do? What do you expect? We cannot combat an illness if we cannot find the _cause_ nor _what is caused_!"

Elrond nodded, bristling at the intent of those harsh words. "I can treat the symptoms if nothing else."

  
"Treat the symptoms? His spirit has fled this life, yet his body clings to it. How would you treat such a thing?" Saruman did not smile, nor was there glee in his voice, but Elrond heard impatience and irritation.

"I do not ask you to understand." Indeed, Elrond thought, Maia or no, the Wizard could not understand the bond he felt with this humanor indeed with this elvish prince—though elvish he was no longer. He looked Saruman in the eye. "I will not give up." His gaze fell on Legolas, oblivious, it seemed, to the debate raging around him, yet still pleading with his friend to return to them. _Ai!_ He thought_. Why did I falter? Why did I not understand what you told me, Ernil o Taur-e-Ndaedelos? _(Prince of the Forest of Great Fear)

The thought haunted him, and, he was sure, regardless of the outcome of this trial, would do so for the rest of his life.

**

Aragorn huddled still behind the walls of his own making. Awash in the pain that held his heart like a vice, he could not have said _where_ he was, _why_ he was, or _that_ he was. There was only this endless sea of misery tormenting him in unrelenting waves.

He knew not how long he remained lost even to himself, but after a time, he felt a shift, a presence here with him. It should have terrified him, he knew that something or someone might have found a way to him, for, though he recalled little, he knew he was hiding.

The presence did not seem threatening, somehow. He thought it felt comfortable, welcoming. Like a familiar face in an unexpected place, or long tales and laughter by a warm fire on a snowy nightor of waking to the smell of baking bread and sweet tea.

Distracted from his pain, he listened carefully. Perhaps this presence was coming to help himto drag him from this nightmare.

__

"Estel!" 

The voice called his own name! Strange, he felt like he had forgotten his identity. He felt he had forgotten everything but that he must hide all things precious to him behind these walls. Only the pain had gotten through. He hesitated. Perhaps this voice that called to him brought more pain.

  
_"Estel, mellonin!" _

It did not sound unfriendly. It sounded familiar, just like the presence, and it called him friend. He pondered that, but as he did, a fresh wave of pain struck him. He held onto it because it was the only thing he knew for what it was, and he barely heard the voice call to him again.

__

"Estel! Im si!" (Estel! I am here!)

Pain tore at him as he heard the words, and suddenly he knew. The presence, his identityhe knewand he cried out to the one who had reached him here in this fortress of his own making.

"LEGOLAS!"

**

Legolas knew his brother was right just as he knew Estel would live. He reached out a hand to his friend, and even as he leaned forward to whisper words of comfort to him, he felt himself pulled, wrenched, propelled deep into a maelstrom. 

Fear, anguish, anger, all covered until fairly dripping with pain nearly tore him from himself. He called again to his friend, knowing, somehow, that he could only survive if he could hold onto his purpose with both hands.

__

"Estel, mellonin!" He called again, hoping to hear some echo of an answer, but the storm of emotion grew fierce as the pain threatened to tear him from his friend. Determination steadied him, for, though he knew naught of healing, he knew this could not be anything but magic. Perhaps Alatar had found a way to torment Estel. Perhaps he was here, somehow. The thought made him ill, and for a moment, he hesitated. If Alatar were here, he might yet find a way to make him kill his friend. No! He had not the time for such thought. He would be no pawn in the Wizard's game. Determination renewed he called to his friend.

__

"Estel! Im si!" (Estel! I am here!)

As the pain increased, Legolas heard a cry for help. Aragorn's voice called to himthe Ranger's very tone pleading for help. He would not fail.

He stood, steadier now, and walked with careful steps. He knew not what he expected, but when he reached a wall of black stone, he knew that was not it. The pain ripping through his friend's body pummeled Legolas' as well, and it was of a kind he had never felt before. Magic, certainly, for how could his friend's pain otherwise touch him physically? 

Reaching the wall, he called out to Estel once more. "_Estel!_"

__

"Legolas! Im si! Im si!" (Legolas! I am here! I am here!)

Legolas reached out a hand and touched the wall. Instantly he felt the ferocity of Estel's intent to keep out that which attacked him. Rage, feral and dangerous, and desperation tinged with sorrow and fear had built this wall. How then, could Legolas penetrate it? 

He stuck the wall with his fist, but found it unwavering. "Estel. You must come back! You must return to us! Tear down these walls! There is no danger! Your friends and family are here!"

Estel spoke, his voice broken. "I cannot! I have tried, but so fiercely did I build them, they will not be torn down!"

Legolas felt himself reel, and not simply from his friend's words. Pain touched them again, and this time, Estel cried out from it.

  
Legolas called out comfort to him. "_Estel! Im si! Si boe ú-dhannathach_!" (Estel. I'm here! You cannot falter now!)

He spoke in elvish, knowing it was the tongue Estel preferred. It gave him comfort, and, in truth, it soothed Legolas as well. He called to his friend to return to him. He pleaded with the Ranger to tear down the walls locked him away from those who loved him.

"Estel! Tolo dan naaaaah" Cut off in mid-word, Legolas found the very breath in his lungs stolen from him. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but could neither inhale nor exhale. His hands flew to his throat, but he could think of nothing to aid him.

He felt cold hands upon his face, and he was drawn away from Estel. He felt his connection severed, and swayed, beset by dizziness at the sudden upheaval. His hands flew then to his face trying to pry away whatever touched him, but he could not. The hands, there, yet not there, would not be moved. A blinding light overwhelmed him, and, for a moment, he thought himself blind. The moment passed and before him he saw only white.

**

Thranduil heard his eldest son's call, and woke shocked to find Legolas so far from him. He had not heard his youngest move, nor felt Legolas' absence from his side. Testament no doubt to the exhaustion of the day. Now, with Aglarelen pleading for aid, he stood and moved towards his sons. 

His eyes remained on Legolas. His youngest seemed to strain against some unknown force as tears slipped from beneath his lashes. His teeth were clenched tightly, though whether from physical pain or mental anguish Thranduil could not tell.

  
He looked to Aglarelen when Elrond asked what had happened and listened to his son's words. He had known Legolas wanted desperately to be near Estel as though physical proximity might anchor the human to Arda, but Thranduil had not allowed it. If he hadno. He would not wander the road of what ifs. That way lies madness.

He looked to Aglarelen, but was stopped short by Legolas' cries. "_Estel! Im si! Si boe ú-dhannathach_!" (Estel. I'm here! You cannot falter now!)

He saw the question in Aglarelen's eyes, but he did not know what troubled his Greenleaf. Noting that Elrond had deferred to Gandalf, Thranduil waited impatiently for the Istari to determine what had happened. 

When Gandalf spoke, his words were not comforting to the Elven King.

"It is not improved. Indeed, it is quite worse. Estel isnot hereyet Legolaslooks for him."

"What does that mean?" Thranduil demanded.

Gandalf sighed heavily the weight of Arda forcing him to lean upon his staff. "I mean that Legolas has gone after him."

"Ever have you spoken in riddles where plainer speech would serve!" Thranduil was deteriorating. Fear for his precious child's life, and irritation at the nonsense words the Wizard spewed robbed him of reason. 

Before he could say more, however, Elrond turned to Gandalf. "What are we to do?""

Gandalf opened his mouth to speak, but it was Saruman's voice that dominated the conversation. "What are we to do? What do you expect? We cannot combat an illness if we cannot find the _cause_ nor _what is caused_!"

Elrond nodded, bristling at the intent of those harsh words. "I can treat the symptoms if nothing else."

  
"Treat the symptoms? His spirit has fled this life, yet his body clings to it. How would you treat such a thing?" Saruman did not smile, nor was there glee in his voice, but Elrond heard impatience and irritation. Saruman shook his head. "He will not recover."

"I do not ask you to understand. I will not give up."

Thranduil heard the White Wizard's words, and his heart turned to ice in his chest. Gripped by fear and the cold hands of denial and desperation, Thranduil whirled on the White Wizard, the sudden movement combined with the look of near-madness in his eyes, forced even the mighty Istar to take several steps backward.

Thranduil stepped closer to the Istar, invading what space he had established for himself. An emotional elf at the best of times, Thranduil spoke now in an eerie tone, calm, yet holding the promise of rage. "What of Legolas? So sure are you that Estel cannot recover, but what of Legolas?" 

Saruman blinked twice before replying. "I will need to examine him."

  
Annoyed by the remark, which he read as an excuse to delay his diagnosis, Thranduil nodded permission, and watched as the White Wizard lay his hands upon the ashen face of Thranduil's cherished Greenleaf.

  
To Be Continued

Joee1: And thenthis! Hee! I knowevil cliffie! Ha! What can I say? I can't help it! 

Gwyn: Well, he's not cured yet, but I'm hopeful the muse will come up with a cure soon! More Thanduil to come as well!

Templa Otmena: LOL! I don't mind if you babble on for an age! I love your reviews. I'm thrilled that something I've written can inspire such comments and debate! Honestly! Sorry about the Saruman addiction. There's less of him in this chapter, so I hope that helpsof course, there's going to be more of him before this fic is finished! Oh, and all the best lunatic asylums have internet access! I'm glad you liked the 'cloak of safety' thing for Legolas and the bit about the look on his brother's face. I like to put in an occasional hint of previous good times, lest we all think that time on Middle-earth is just crisis after crisis. These are elves after all! I'm sure they know how to have a bit of fun when evil wizards aren't possessing them! As for what Legolas felt lodged at the back of his throat, I meant only to emphasize his humanity as opposed to his elvishness. For a human, when an irritant is removed, the irritation may still remain. Alatar is gone. Unless he's not. (Heh!) No really, he's gone. What? I mean it! I've got Celeborn in the next chapter, but I couldn't quite squeeze him in here. (With this chapter taking a little longer than most, I didn't want to delay the posting.) The Gandalf asking permission to examine Legolas seemed in character. These things just write themselves! Don't apologize for telling me I write Gandalf well! LOL! I should get such apologies every day! I love Gandalf. I will get to Elrohir and Glordfindel soon. I just have to concentrate on the Ranger right now. As for Saruman, I thought it vital to the character that he not be discovered. I don't know why. I've messed with canon here in other instances, but, not to give too much away, I feel it important to leave Saruman as close to undiscovered as possible. There will be more angst and recovery in the next few chapters.

Silvertoekee: Yes! That's it exactly. Aragorn did so well protecting himself that the others can't reach him. I'm glad you like the chapter.

Jadesaber: Thanks! I tend to like to add twists to a story. Keeps me interested! I'll post more soon!

  
Randomramblings: Thanks! I'm flattered!

Leggylover03: Hee! Sorry! Didn't mean to make you crazy! All questions will be answeredeventually!

Isadora2: Thanks for that advice. I'm a few centuries behind. I carry pen and paper everywhere I go, but I never thought of using Digital Technology! Hee! I'm glad you like the perspectives. It does keep things moving. I'm more than thrilled that you find Saruman in character! I feel like I'm treading a fine line with him, and it is heartening that so many of my readers like him! I'm a fan of Cassia and Sio's fics, and I do remember the passage you refer to here! Good point! I worked in a few scents in this chapterdid you notice? Thanks for your review and for reading!

White Wolf1: Thanks! The friendship between Legolas and Estel, even if it is one largely based in fanon rather than canon, is one of the most compelling things about LOTR fanfic. (I love a lot of the other characters as wellthere is some really good fanfic out there exploring the brotherly relationship between Faramir and Boromir. Check out Henneth-Annun.net for some of the best ones.) Yes, as you can see, Aragorn built those darn walls too well! 

Grumpy: I promise I'll get to Elrohir and Glrofindel. One crisis at a time for now! Saruman's "help" is making things worse isn't it? More to come!

Catherinexxix: Thank you! Wow! Long review! Believe me, I'll be patient! LOL! Well, I don't know what Tolkien would say, but I'm having fun! You've described just what I'm trying to dostay true to Tolkien's vision, yet allow the characters to grow. It's a difficult thing, and, of course, it's my interpretation of the characters, so it won't agree with everyone else's view. Celeborn and Galadriel are characters I was, at first, hesitant to tackle. I'm glad they ring true for you! Good point. I suppose Saruman's fall could partially be from that, but alsonot only from the basic misunderstanding, but the _unwillingness _to understand. At least that's how I see it. Gandalf is, as he says in film and book, Saruman as he was meant to be. Yes, the 'violation' of Aragorn's mind was meant as a violent hint at Saruman's ruthlessness. Gandalf wants to help Aragorn here, but is puzzled, though he is willing to admit he doesn't know everything. Saruman is not willing to do that. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Maybe my chapters will get longer if my reviews do! LOL!

Tychen: Yes, the others have foresight, but Saruman is powerful and sneaky, and they don't expect anything. Saruman's ability to bend someone's will with the sound of his voice is key to all of this. I'm thrilled you're enjoying this! Thanks for reviewing!

Jacklyn: Thanks! I will keep it coming! I'm as hooked as all of you are!

Deana: Sorry this wasn't sooner! More soon!

Sirithiliel: Thanks! More soon!

Estelreader: Wow! Thanks so much! Are you and catherinexxix comparing notes? I adore Tolkien, which is why, I'm sure everyone is here at all! Thank you so much! You've read my interpretation of Saruman just as I meant it. He can't see what others see or feel what they feel. There isn't an empathic bone in his body. He's much enamored of his own superiority. Dysfunctional, you might say, only really powerful at the same time! I do see your point about Sauron and the Ring. I imagine Tolkien was underscoring Sauron with Sarumanjust as Sauron himself is underscoring the true evil of Morgoth. That's true what you said. I've always wondered (whenever people point out to me that there's no proof in the book that Legolas and Aragorn knew each other at all before the Fellowship) if Legolas and Aragorn weren't great friends, why would he deny the sea longing until Aragorn dies? Why put himself through what must be a painful ordeal if not for the great love and friendship of his mortal friend? As for Aragorn, I was afraid that snippet of him was too short to convey anything of importance, but I can see I was worried for nothing. My sole intention there was to establish his strength of will so that this chapter would be believeable. Thanks for your review! I'll keep writing. More soon, I promise! 

Elven Kitten: Thanks! I'll try to have the next chapter up quicker.

Cosmic Castaway: (backing away slowly with hands raised) UmI'll just sit here and keep typing, okay? Umcan I lower my hands nowjust as far as the keyboard?


	22. part 22

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

Author's Note: I use some elvish in this chapter, some of which I lifted from the scripts of the films. Other phrases I pieced together using a dictionary or a website. If any elvish scholars see that I'm wrong, forgive me, and e-mail a correction to me! Thanks!

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 22

By Ecri

Lord Celeborn watched with a heavy heart as Elrond, Thranduil, and the two Wizards argued over Legolas and Estel. He wished little more than to be able to help the pair himself, and some part of him sought a hint in his long memory that this–whatever it was–could be undone. His interest in Estel had grown over the years, and had, of course, reached its pinnacle when he'd learned of Arwen's love for the man. His wife had shared with him some small thoughts on the destiny of him she named Elessar, yet, from what he could see in the depths of her eyes, she withheld much.

Elessar–the name seemed to fit the Ranger, yet, Celeborn knew without being told that the man ran from his own destiny. Always when Galadriel mentioned Estel, it was as though she knew of some choice the man might face, some decision that could lead him to salvation or damnation. Celeborn knew, also without being told, that Galadriel feared he would choose the road to damnation, though, against all reason, she clung to hope.

Hope. Celeborn would have laughed outright at the thought in other circumstances, but instead relished the notion that, in a moment either of insight or whimsy, Elrond had given a two-year-old Aragorn the elvish name Estel. Hope indeed, for he inspired such in many hearts. In the hopeless–those who would soon leave Middle-earth unable to remain within the growing shadow– and in the hopeful–those who, though imbued with that singularly optimistic emotion, could now point to Estel and say, 'There, see! It is he who will restore Middle-earth!'

Which thought, of course, brought him to Legolas. Ever hopeful, ever faithful, the youngest prince of Mirkwood had not been overlooked by Galadriel and Celeborn. News traveled, though not swiftly, between elven realms, and they had learned much of Legolas. His love for Mirkwood's trees–indeed for all of Arda–, his indefatigable faith and loyalty–these things had brought the young prince to Galadriel's attention and ever had she kept some eye on his future. She had not been at all surprised to learn that he and Estel had become fast friends. Celeborn's initial surprise had been at the thought that a son of Thranduil's–an elf who was, to say the least, biased against all things not elven–would befriend a human. The notion had melted away when he considered the dispositions of the elf and the man.

Legolas was young as elves would reckon such things, and Estel was young as those of his kind might consider him, but both were of that age to others of their race where they could be expected to make their own paths in life. Legolas' path had become irrevocably entwined with Estel's. The two would remain steadfast friends for the rest of their days.

If their days extended beyond this one, Celeborn thought as he looked again to the two. Both seemed in pain, and both seemed unable or unwilling to wake. Gandalf had told them that Estel seemed to have lost that spark within him that made him who he was, but Celeborn could not help but think that, perhaps, it was not irretrievably gone. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the pleading of Thranduil for Saruman to speak of Legolas' condition. Celeborn could not say why, but the sight of Saruman kneeling beside the young prince and placing his slender hands on each side of Legolas' face had stilled his breath. Why he should sense a danger of any kind from the White Wizard Celeborn would later force himself to examine. For now, however, he was unable to stop himself from stepping closer to the youngest of his kin.

Legolas writhed on the ground as though in great pain, and one hand came up to his face to tug to no avail at the Wizard's hands. Legolas' other hand still held firm in a white-knuckled grip to his dear friend.

Celeborn glanced at Galadriel, but his wife for once did not return his worried look. Instead she stared at the Greenleaf, her eyes haunted, and her attention far from that which her eyes beheld. He had seen this before. She was having a vision. Some instant of foresight unveiled itself before her eyes. He watched her carefully, ready to spring to her aid if she were in need.

**

Glorfindel issued orders to the perimeter guards as the huddled group of healers, Wizards, and family looked after their two most severely injured members. The ancient elf easily claimed responsibility for the safety of those with whom he traveled, for in the mundane tasks of setting watches and discussing their route, their supplies, and the possibility of fair skies or rain, he found before him something he could control. His contributions might be small in matters of the veiled workings of body and mind, but in action, in preparation for action, he was in his element.

Lord Elrond often told him he was too diligent in the responsibility he had taken upon himself to keep the Lord of Imladris and his family safe, but Glorfindel found he could do little else. He believed that each soul created in Middle-earth by Blessed Eru, whether mortal or immortal, had one true task assigned to them. He had decided that the only task remaining to him was to look after the Peredhel and his kin. 

Glorfindel had seen what Celebrian's decision to leave Middle-earth for the Undying Lands had done to Elrond. The parting had not been easy, and the Lord of Imladris, though pleased his wife had chosen life and not the Halls of Mandos, had not adjusted easily to the separation. Indeed, he had grieved for so long, many believed he would leave for the White Shores of Valinor soon thereafter. Glorfindel had vowed, to himself since Elrond would likely not have accepted such a promise, that while he dwelt in Middle-earth Elrond and his sons and daughter would be safe.

Unable to help Elrond in healing either Estel or Elrohir, he found himself taking the responsibility of insuring that they were safe from orcs, wargs, wolves, or other such attackers. It was not much, he knew, but it was one less worry his Lord would need to bear. 

Of course, he also kept an eye upon Elrohir. The youngest twin seemed much the same as he was at the moment. The severity of the condition seemed to fluctuate, and Glorfindel wished to ask Elrohir if it were the same with him. At the moment, he found himself feeling nearly normal, but he knew from experience that this could change without warning.

Elrohir seemed equally unaffected as he sat with Elladan. Both looked towards their father hoping, no doubt, to discern some hint of their brother's and Legolas' condition. He moved towards them, hoping to be certain Elrohir was as well as he seemed. Elladan, he noted had cast more than one furtive glance in his twin's direction, obviously seeking to know the same. 

  
Glorfindel seated himself in front of the twins. "I have set the hunting detail for tomorrow, but you are both excused." He had expected some protest, but Elladan was too worried for both his brothers and his friend to give him more than a slight nod. Elrohir didn't seem to hear. 

Glorfindel stared at him in concern and saw Elrohir's shoulders tense as he spoke. "What is Saruman doing?"

Glorfindel did not know why such words would trouble him, but he immediately turned towards Saruman his hand drifting towards the hilt of his sword. Chagrined by such an unnecessary move in the presence of friends, he deliberately moved his hand away and studied Saruman's actions to discover what had so upset Elrohir.

  
Saruman knelt by Legolas' side, his hands clasped to the prince's face. Legolas had brought one hand up as though to move the grip aside, but it was his injured wrist, and the prince could do little to force Saruman's touch away.

Glorfindel stood and took a step forward some part of him noting that the twins did the same. Another step, then another and when he was but a few paces from Saruman, a wave of dizziness nearly swept him off his feet. He brought a hand to his head and took several halting steps backward. As suddenly as it had hit him, the dizziness evaporated. He shook his head and turned to Elrohir and Elladan. Elladan was supporting his brother, who held a shaky hand to his head.

Glorfindel scowled. He was a patient elf, but this weakness that assailed him seemed intent on keeping him from his duty. He would not tolerate it. Taking Elrohir by the arm not already in Elladan's possession, he dragged the pair away. They would uncover the cause of these odd spells and they would do it now.

**

Galadriel saw Saruman lay his hands upon the prince's face, and in that precise moment the vision came. She saw a tower of black stone, walls insurmountable, unassailable, and impenetrable. She saw the Greenleaf leaning upon it, raging against it and calling to_Elessar_!

The prince had found a way to reach his friend. How he could do so, she did not know. No longer an elf and no longer possessing the innate talents of the Eldar, how had he managed to reach a soul so tortured that it hid itself so well? That Elessar had hidden his spirit behind this wall she knew by instinct. She sensed no spell had done this to him, but what sort of an attack would force the man to such extremes? 

Aside from that question, she could not help but ponder Legolas' success where Elrond and Gandalf had failed. She had long watched this particular elf. She had long been impressed by his gentle and willing love of all things on Arda. No less was she enamored of his manner, his faith, and his trust, which, once given–no easy task for a child of Mirkwood and a son of Thranduil!–was as unassailable as the walls behind which Elessar hid. 

It was, perhaps, his very nature. His faith in his friend made him willing–and able–to follow whither Estel would go, even were that a place deep inside himself. It was a question she would contemplate with her husband later. She watched the prince plead with his friend to tear down the walls that held him, and, before she could learn Estel's answer, she felt the vision leave her. 

She knew from long experience the futility in railing against such a thing. She had been gifted with a glimpse and nothing more. It would have to be enough.

She looked to her husband, who had come to her side while she was lost to the vision. "My husband, we would do well to fortify their strength."

  
He joined her and together they approached the Ranger and the Prince.

**

Aragorn heard his friend's words, but could find no way to tear down the fortress he had built. Knowing this was in his mind and not a physical place did nothing to lessen the strength of the walls. If anything, he felt less in control for he could think of no way to unmake what he had made.

When his cry for Legolas was answered, his heart had leapt in unrestrained relief and joy. Knowing he was not alone–never alone!–he had calmed enough to look at his problem as just that. A problem. One that had a solution however hidden it might be.

It was when he felt Legolas' presence wrenched from him that the panic returned. "LEGOLAS!" He screamed again. Unwilling to wait for a reply, he began to pound on the walls that caged him. 

Legolas would not leave him by his own volition, of that, he was certain. His friend's departure had been sudden, almost violent, which hinted that he was being attacked. 

Aragorn would not leave Legolas to face danger without him! Once again he called to his friend and beat against the walls. After a few moments, he realized that Legolas' presence was not wholly gone from him. He felt it there, at the edge of awareness. It was a tenuous hold to be sure, but it was nearby. Willing Legolas to feel his own presence, he stopped battering the obsidian barrier before him. 

"Legolas, _mellonin,_ whatever torments you, you are not alone!" Aragorn stared at the walls of his own making and knew only that they stood now in his way. It was a stronghold no longer. It was an obstacle. With no more thought than that, he watched in amazement as the wall began to crumble.

  
Aragorn again pounded the walls, urging their destruction. When finally a hole appeared, he squeezed himself through it, and ran towards the presence he still sensed. There he found his friend. 

"Legolas! _Telin le thaed!"_ (I've come to help you!) He cried out the words, willing some response from the Prince.

Legolas seemed no more than a crumpled heap upon the ground. His eyes were open as though in elvish sleep, but that could not be so. He moaned as though in some pain, and one hand pulled as though to tug something from his face. The other hand touched what remained of the black wall Aragorn had built. An instant before Aragorn could think of any way to aid his friend, Legolas' body shook violently, and a scream of outright terror slipped through his lips.

Aragorn clutched at his friend in a blind panic. He seized the Prince's hands. "Legolas!" Frantic eyes scanned the pale face before him, but he was at a loss. The healer in him could find nothing to treat, and the warrior in him could find nothing to combat. In desperation, he held tightly to his friend, letting him know he was not alone, and hoping fervently that he would find some way to help.

**

Legolas heard Estel's call, but he could not make himself answer. He felt the touch of hands upon his face, gentle the hands seemed, but it was a caress full of malice and machinations. Dark thoughts hidden behind a light façade seemed only to increase the Shadow–as light often will. The soft touch of the cold flesh upon his face seemed a cruel mockery of the loving caresses he had received from his father in the past, and he could not help but recoil from it seeking comfort and some shield behind which to hide in his memory.

  
The moment he retreated to his immortal memories, however, he felt a growing hunger in he who touched him. The touch seemed more fierce and more intent upon seeing where Legolas would go. The realization made him falter. His instincts were no help here, for instinct drove him to seek the very thing this being seemed to want. He heard Estel again, and though the presence strengthened him, he dared not let memories of his friend drift through his mind. He had no way of knowing which memories thiswanted from him. He shunned all thought, forcing his mind to remain blank. When some stray memory or notion would come to his mind, he shoved it viciously as far from himself as he could.

It was then that the touch became unbearable. Perhaps angered by not gaining whatever it sought, the touch tightened, and, Legolas knew, it was around his very soul that he who touched him sought to wreak its revenge. Legolas sensed a growing hatred already as wide as all of Arda. 

He heard Estel's voice then, loud, insistent. Estel resorted to a tone of equal parts protectiveness and outrage that the human used when one he loved was threatened. "Legolas! _Telin le thaed!"_ (I've come to help you!)

Legolas was heartened by the call, and felt his friend's presence coming closer to him, but he stubbornly kept his mind blank. Knowing he could not communicate with his friend if he remained so, he still dared not give this evil Shadow what it sought.

The Shadow, incensed by its failure to take what it wanted, muttered a single word. _Die._ Legolas did not have time to wonder what was about to happen. The moment the word resonated in his mind, he felt his body begin to shake. Unable to still his limbs, he convulsed, his muscles moving in opposition to each other until his entire frame was a quivering, trembling mass. A wordless cry was torn from his throat and Legolas Thranduilion could do nothing but make his peace. He knew the Shadow would have its way. He was about to die.

In that moment, he heard Estel pleading with him to stay. Estel! His friend more than lived up to his name, and hope bloomed in Legolas' heart and mind. The human's hands gripped him fiercely and he recalled his own insistence that Estel would be well echoed in his friends unfaltering notion that Legolas would recover from this attack.

  
**  
  
Aragorn clung desperately to his friend, seeking some sign in Legolas' face that all would be well. He knew that Legolas had somehow come to him though he'd felt no others even approach his cage of stone, and he knew that Legolas' belief in him, in Eru, and indeed in all the elves with whom they traveled could not be shaken. It was this faith he called on now. _"Dartha an nin, Legolas!"_ (Stay with me, Legolas!)

Legolas shifted, his tremors lessening as though in response to Aragorn's words, but he made no reply. In a flash of intuition, Aragorn knew–without knowing how he knew–that his friend faced the foul fiend whose attack had caused him to raise the stony shields he had only just managed to tear down. Fear gripped his heart, but he allowed it no hold. Leaning close to Legolas' ear, he whispered in elvish, whatever words he thought might lend Legolas strength.

**

Saruman knew as he took the now human prince of Mirkwood in his hands that he would need to control himself. He wished at one time to possess this elf, but had instead taken his elvish nature from him. He would gladly restore what he had stolen if he could find a way to claim this prince for his own. He wondered what sort of affect the potions and spells he held in secret might have on so fine a specimen, and his desire to learn this almost overwhelmed his reason.

With effort, he put such thoughts aside. His desire to steal Legolas away entirely and subject him to the trials of his laboratory could not be denied, but he knew it was not to be. At least not now. The young prince must, however, be torn from his protection of the Ranger. Only then would he be able to kill the human. There was also a danger, however slight that, if the pair somehow realized who was behind this, he might be exposed for his plots and all would be in ruin. He would have to tread carefully to keep his identity secret.

  
It occurred to him as he touched the smooth, youthful skin, that he might yet gain confirmation of the Ranger's identity, for surely two beings as close as these seemed to be would have shared such secrets. He reached out to touch the mind that was laid before him like a feast upon a King's table and allowed himself the pleasure of experiencing the young one's fear. The creature recoiled from his touch! It was a satisfying experience. When he reached to take what he wanted, however, he had barely a moment to glimpse a memory, and certainly not time enough to interpret it, before it was torn from him. 

This was unfathomable! Thranduil's stripling barred his way! He could not conceive how this could be so! His power should have easily overwhelmed any defenses this maddening fool could conjure! With great force of will, Saruman calmed his racing mind, and sought some solution to this quandary. He tried several spells, rattling them off and assessing what little they accomplished. Seeing no alternative and enraged beyond reason, he spoke one word directly into the cursed prince's mind. _Die_. It robbed him of any chance of someday finding this young prince at his mercy in his laboratory, but so be it. His pleasures would be sacrificed for the greater purpose of his long-term plans.

It was a small matter to disrupt the creature's bodily systems. He watched then, as close as he dared, waiting to feel the moment of death before he would severe his connection. 

Once bereft of the somehow sustaining presence of Legolas Thranduilion, the young Ranger would die as well. He would see to it.

**

Aglarelen could not help but flinch when Legolas began to struggle against Saruman's touch. He reasoned with himself that the White Wizard was seeking only to help his brother, but his heart would not heed the advice of reason and logic. It knew only that his dearest brother suffered, and it urged him to cut that suffering short.

For a moment, the Crown Prince was mesmerized, obsessed by the White Wizard's hands. He watched as they rested lightly on his brother's face. Slender fingers with long, pointed fingernails discolored by work or toil, they seemed the sort of hands that could command the very elements to bend to their master's will. He knew you could not see such a thing, but they looked cold, hard, and somehow calculating. He saw some fingers hovered just at the surface of his brother's skin and others sat heavily upon it. 

Gripped by the horrifying image of those hands drawing the very life from Legolas' no longer immortal soul, he took a step nearer the Wizard, intending to tear him bodily away from his brother, but Saruman turned to face him halting him in his tracks. 

"You must allow me to work. I mean only to aid your brother."

  
Aglarelen retreated a step and, though his heart remained uneasy, it also obeyed his mind. Why had he assumed the Wizard would hurt Legolas? He shook his head hoping only to clear it, but just then Legolas began to tremble. Aglarelen tried desperately to accept his brother's obvious discomfortno! He berated himself for the word choice. Pain! His brother was in pain! This was no trifling _discomfort_! He knew Saruman would not purposefully hurt his brother. He knew it, but as the tremors increased, and Legolas began to make an odd sound deep in his throat as if he would scream but was somehow robbed of the ability, Aglarelen could take it no longer. 

He moved toward the Wizard again, but even as he did, Legolas found his voice and a great howl came forth freezing Aglarelen's blood. A blur of motion moved by him, and before he could identify it, he saw his father forcing himself between the Wizard and Legolas, knocking Saruman to the ground and forcing him to release his hold on Legolas.

"My son! My son!" Thranduil's aggrieved voice bellowed through the clearing as he clutched Legolas to his chest, weeping and rocking.  
  
Legolas spoke then, his words surprising all who heard them. "Do not give in! Do not heed his words! Monster! Enemy! Fiend! He seeks to destroy!"

Whom he spoke of, unless it be the Enemy, the Necromancer, Aglarelen could not fathom, but his words were like a balm to all. It was as though they woke from dream. No one understood why they had not tried sooner or harder to reach the Ranger. No one could guess why they had stood silently as Legolas had suffered.

Aglarelen moved to his father's side, ignoring the White Wizard who lay where he had fallen. Shame coursed through him at the thought that he had nearly stood by and allowed Shadow to take his brother, for now that Legolas had spoken, Aglarelen plainly saw the Enemy's insidious hand in all that had happened.

His eyes fell on what little he could still see of his brother. Engulfed in the arms of Thranduil, Legolas was all but hidden from view. Aglarelen saw only the top of his head, his long blond hair shielding his face from view, one arm–his one good hand reaching up to clutch at Thranduil's robes–, and his legs, but even these trembled still as though in the grip of some terrible pain or horrifying vision.

The Crown Prince saw Galadriel and Celeborn, eyes closed, hands upon Estel and Legolas, and knew they would help. It was not then wholly unexpected when Gandalf and Elrond stepped forward and hovered nearby hoping to be of some aid to the group. He saw Celeborn then pull away from his wife and open his eyes. Gesturing to Elrond and Gandalf to take his place, he began to move aside. "I am no healer. They need your aid, Elrond, for there is strength now within them."

Aglarelen saw Gandalf look to Saruman as though assessing the White Wizard's mood and inclination to help. An impatient gesture from Saruman sent Gandalf to Elrond's side, though Aglarelen was certain the scowl on the Grey Wizard's face could not be meant for the Elf Lord.

Thranduil's eldest turned to Saruman, and noted the disgruntled look upon his face. The Wizard's anger was easy to detect, and Aglarelen saw some hint of darkness on the features, but it was so quickly gone that the Crown Prince assumed he was merely projecting his own feelings on a being who had but _appeared_ to be harming his brother. Asking Eru's pardon for so unfair a judgement, he turned back to his father and brother.

**

Elrohir stared at Glorfindel as though the ancient elf had grown a second head. "Are you saying we were touched by Saruron?"

Glorfindel considered the words. Was that what he was saying? "Nay, IIt must be some effect from the Blue Wizards' spell! Oh, I know not what I am saying, save that the weakness I have perceived in myself does wax and wane, though I can see no pattern, no cause!" Frustration urged him to anger, but he was old and experienced, and did not give free rein to his emotions easily.

Elrohir was nodding. "That I have noticed as well. Perhaps the spell is breaking?"

"Perhaps it is gaining power." Glorfindel's reply was laden with despondency.

Elladan interrupted the two. "Perhaps you should not jump to conclusions and have father examine you again."

"Unless he were to have the remarkable luck to be examining us at the moment we were struck, it would do little good." Glorfindel did not intend to give up, but he felt there was something obvious he should be seeing.

He was about to suggest Elladan keep careful watch on his brother, and insist he would have Haldir do the same for him, when they heard Legolas cry out in anguish. The trio wasted not a moment in returning to the others.

**

Gandalf could not help but feel his own failure. He had sought to help Estel, yet he had only been able to note the absence of his spirit. So tired and eager to rest had he been when Saruman had suggested it that he had not seen the now obvious action Legolas had undertaken. He could almost smile at what the young prince had done.

Had he not himself just remarked about the unshakable faith of this child of Eru? Why then had he been so bent on heeding Saruman's advice and seeking rest when it should have been apparent to any fool that Legolas would not? That the young prince had found a way to move to his friend's side, despite injuries that would have left most elves or humans weak as a kitten was nothing short of astonishing. 

As Gandalf watched, he was taken aback by Legolas' trembling. He searched Saruman's visage for some clue as to what was going on, but could learn nothing. 

Thranduil's outcry and deposing of Saruman's position–violently shoving him to the ground–should have surprised him, he knew, but his heart only wept with the Elven King's. Though he had no children of his own, there were those among the inhabitants of Middle-earth whom he sometimes considered as such. He knew, were he forced to view their suffering, he would act much as Thranduil was.

His eyes fell on Saruman as the Wizard glared at Thranduil and Legolas. He sought some permission from his superior to examine the Ranger when Celeborn stepped aside and bid both he and Elrond to do so. What he saw on Saruman's face–anger, irritation, and a lack of concern or compassion–only disgusted him.

He and Saruman had not often seen eye to eye on means or ends, but Saruman's penchant for seeing things in absolute terms had always troubled Gandalf. There was much in the world that was neither black, nor white, but was in factgrey.

  
Shaking himself from his thoughts, the Grey Wizard stepped forward and knelt at Elrond's side. The first thing he encountered was Aragorn's spirit. He smiled to himself. Whatever had happened, Legolas had brought the Ranger back to them. That the young elf-turned-human had somehow communicated, spirit to spirit, with Estel left the Grey Wizard questioning his own abilities. Why had he not been able to reach the Ranger?

He dismissed such thoughts. He had not the time for self-recrimination. He would be able to learn more after the two were awake and alert enough to tell him what had happened. He concentrated instead on easing their suffering.

He felt Galadriel pass her grace to the Ranger and to Legolas, and he knew Celeborn had likely done the same. The increase of strength in the pair told him that. He felt Aragorn's soul take all that was offered. Though still weak, Aragorn seemed to choose life, and, in the choice alone, doubled his chances. Gandalf knew the road might yet be hard, but the hope he felt could not be denied. It seemed more likely to him with each passing moment that Aragorn would live. His head still throbbed, and he would likely take long to recover from such a blow as he had received, to say nothing of whatever else he had suffered that had caused his withdraw from those around him, but recover he would.

Gandalf stayed in silent communion with Estel, guiding him towards the light, cradling his spirit and offering succor like a mother did for her newborn child until it was able to care for itself. He knew not how long he stayed with Estel, but when finally he broke away, he was confident that the unnatural sleep brought on by injury and magic had been replaced by a natural, healing sleep.  


He turned then to Legolas, offering the same to him. The Grey Wizard was both pleased and concerned when the Prince accepted such solace. His worry for his friend was foremost in his mind, but the young one's _fëa_ was too exhausted to turn away what aid Gandalf offered. 

When finally Legolas rested as Estel did, Gandalf blinked to awareness. He noted that Elrond knelt now by Estel and that the Elven Lord appeared to know as surely as Gandalf that his son would live. 

Thranduil likewise continued to cradle his sleeping son, and Gandalf took a moment to assure the King that his youngest was healing. 

Gandalf smiled at the sight of the fathers with their sons, but soon remembered that not all was well. The urgency of Legolas' words had awakened them to other injury that they had felt safe in ignoring earlier.

"Elrohir? Glorfindel?" His voice reflected his concern as did his eyes.

Elrond sighed. "I would examine them again, but I know not the cause of their malady. If only we knew what spell the Ithryn Luin had cast."

  
Gandalf grunted. "That would hardly guarantee that we could reverse it." He stood and moved toward Glorfindel and Elrohir who did indeed appear less fatigued. "Have you learned anything of your condition that you would tell us?"

  
Glorfindel explained to Gandalf about their agreement that the affects, whatever they were came and went with little rhyme or reason.

Gandalf merely grunted. "There is always a pattern to such things, though not even a willing, ready eye can find it. Will you permit me?"

The two nodded and Gandalf took their hands. Only moments had passed when his eyes snapped open. "There is something else at work here! This is not some simple sleeping spell!" He reached then for Elrond's arm, not bothering this time to seek permission, and nodded as if it confirmed what he'd seen. He crossed the camp to Elladan and to Aglarelen who lingered one at Estel's side and one at Legolas' side trying to ease their brothers' pain. The Grey Wizard took their hands as well and a moment later made a noise deep in his throat of sudden understanding and not a little dread. 

  
He turned to Saruman and Elrond. The White Wizard stood, impassive, as though knowing what Gandalf would say and only waiting for him to say it. Elrond seemed puzzled.

"The Blue Wizards must have used some other incantation! These two," he gestured to Glorfindel and Elrohir, "are suffering from more than a sleeping spell. It is something meant to tax their strength–leave them vulnerable." Gandalf returned to Glorfindel's side and took the warrior's hands in his own. "I do not know if I can reverse this." The Grey Wizard then addressed Saruman. "You have more power than I. You may yet find some way to help them."

  
Saruman smiled. "Then let me see what I can do."

To Be Continued

Joee1: Oops! Didn't mean to stand between you and your homework. Sorry about that! I'm glad you wanted to throttle Saruman. That means I must have written him right! Thanks for your review!

Isadora2: That book sounds fascinating. I'd love to read it. I have no problem with Orlando Bloom playing the lead. I love when actors go against type! Thanks for your review!

  
Catherinexxix: Thanks! (Have I mentioned how much I love it when people quote me back to me? It's like Bruno Kirby in When Harry Met Sally! Hee!) That's great that you felt you were struggling right along with Legolas when he was trying to reach Estel! What a compliment! Thanks for your review!

Silvertoekee: Plenty more angst to come, and we still haven't covered several major plot points! Thanks for your review! I hope you like this chapter.

Chloe Amethyst: Don't worry! No apologies necessary–or as Aragorn said to Legolas in TTT, _Ú-moe edaved_. (There is nothing to forgive.) Hee! I just used elvish in conversationin electronic conversation, anyway. I couldn't agree more with your assessment of Saruman. He has been too long alone with his own thoughts and in his musty old tower. Not to mention too long in communication with Sauron! The bit with Legolas in Estel's mind will be explained much better in a future chapter. Galadriel's musings here notwithstanding, there is a morereason. I do intend also to touch on some of Aragorn's recovery from the trauma of Saruman's violation. I love Glorfindel as well, and I do have more in mind for everyone's favorite Balrog Slayer! Thanks ever so much for your review. More soon, I promise!

Deana: OkayI promise! Thanks for reviewing.

White Wolf1: Yes, Elrond's good at guilt! There will be plenty of that sort of thing going around soon, too! I'm glad you liked Legolas' determination. Its one of those things I think everyone needs: an all-encompassing faith in someone. LOL! You're right, I won't be answering questions like that! You'll have to wait for the written chapters! Thanks for reviewing.

Templa Otmena: Thanks! The parental concern was something I really needed to convey. It's probably still a reaction to the evil Thranduil fics I've read. If anyone isn't aware there's an anti evil Thranduil campaign. Check out this website: a great little campaign and there are some good links to Good Thranduil fics. I included the interaction between Legolas and Aragorn precisely because they hadn't interacted for so long. I love those two, and when they're together they seem so much moreif that makes sense. I was concerned–and rather cruel to my muse by demanding she come up with something else–about writing that entire section that takes place in Aragorn's mind, walls and all. I was afraid I was getting too far from the action and relying too much on magicbut it seems pretty popular. Now I owe my muse an apology. She was getting me back by making this chapter a little difficult. Yes, Elrond's words to Saruman about him not understanding were meant to echo Thranduil's. I know my cliffies are getting worse, but I can't seem to break the story anywhere else! Thanks so much for your review! 

  
Gwyn: Would you believe through the walls! Yes, it was the only way. Aragorn had to have a reason to come out on his own, and if he couldn't be convinced that he was safe, he had to believe that Legolas was in danger.

Estelreader: Thanks! Wow! What a compliment! (Ecri blushes.) Legolas may be figuring something out as you can see, but how much and what he retains remains to be seen. Yes, Alatar claimed to know the cure. Aragorn didn't quite believe him, but there will be more on that later. Aragorn did indeed vow to help Legolas regain his elvishness, and, no worries, he plays a pivotal part in the attempt to restore our favorite Elf Prince. I'm thrilled you like my interpretation of the Aragorn and Legolas friendship, and noit's perfectly understandable that you want both a proactive Ranger and one riddled with pain and angst. The best of both worlds! Thanks for your review!

Strider's Girl: Oh! I'm so sorry you won't be able to read for awhile. I'll try to have several chapters waiting for you! Thanks for your review!

  
Grumpy: Thanks for your review. Estel is improving, but he isn't quite healed yet. More to come!

Tychen: So right! Saruman is lost when it comes to the true motivations of those with whom he interferes! I will post more ASAP! Thanks for your review!

Jadesaber: They have gone through a lot, and it's not over yet! Thanks for your review.

Sirithiliel: LOL! No that wasn't good! I promise more soon! Thans for your review.

TrinitySheDevil: Yeah, he's evil, but I need him. Could you maybe unspork him until my fic is finished? Thanks for your review!

  
Fire Eagle: More soon, I promise. Thanks for your review!

Lauren: Thanks for your review! More very soon!


	23. part 23

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

  
**NOTE: **It was bought to my attention by catherinexxix that some glitch with fanfiction.net kept her from getting the author alert for the last chapter. I know some of you may have had the same trouble without realizing it, so this is just a quick note to you all that there was indeed a chapter 22 before this! I want to thank everyone for reviewing. I've never had so many reviews before and it means a lot to me. Fire Eagle bumped this up to 300! I will try to keep updating quickly. I do still have a POTC fic to finish, and I have an idea for a really long LOTR fic once this one is finished. Thanks again everyone! Keep reading!

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 23

By Ecri

Saruman silently cursed the elves and Gandalf the Grey for having found a way to save the Ranger. He did not believe the human was of any importance. He did not believe the man could be Isildur's heir. Saruman was convinced that Sauron himself only acted on the _slightest_ _possibility_ of it being so. He did not doubt that, if he could contrive a way for it to be done, Sauron would see all men of Middle-earth destroyed just to be certain Isildur's heir was killed. Regardless, Saruman had intended for the man to die. It was some achievement he could have used as proof of his servitude. He grimaced at the notion. Even the thought of that word grated at his soul! Servitude indeed! Sauron could not begin to guess Saruman's true plans! Middle-earth would bow to the White Wizard and deny the Dark Lord. His pretense would have been made simpler had he the body of a dead Ranger to show the Enemy. 

The Wizard could not believe that his plans had been so completely altered. It was that cursed Prince! Legolas Greenleaf had thwarted him. Somehow the creature had destroyed the cloth of death and doubt he had woven with his skillful words. Somehow the creature had brought light to push back the shadow. It was also the young prince's fault that Thranduil was still a concern. If not for his condition, if not for the concern of his eldest brother, Saruman was sure Thranduil would have passed the Kingship to Aglarelen and then himself passed to Valinor. As it stood, Mirkwood still retained the one King who could still defeat the darkness that closed in upon the Woodland Realm. 

The irony struck him deeply. If he had never taken the young elf's elvishness, if Legolas were still the immortal he had been born to be, not only would his natural healing abilities would have made short work of his injuries, but also this band of travelers would never have left Rivendell at all. 

There was little he could do about what had already been done. The elf was no longer an elf, and though he could easily restore the prince, he would not. His hatred of the creature who has so befouled his plans would be placated the knowledge that he had stolen his immortal life. He had severed this creature's connection to Arda. He smiled at the thought that none here could find a way to reverse the spell. They were neither powerful nor intelligent enough to detect what he had done.

He realized that he Ranger would live, but he would not dwell on such an insignificant failure. The man meant nothing to him, and would mean nothing to Middle-earth regardless of how long he lived.

  
The most carefully considered plans could easily adapt to such minor setbacks, and Saruman's plans were always carefully considered. He had yet to have a plan fail to come to fruition, and this would be no exception. Through his own diligence and quick intelligence he would yet hold sway over the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. This need not be a complete failure, after all, and he might yet gain some advantage from it. 

Elrohir and Glorfindel had succumbed to his spell. He had thought they would be easily taken by the orcs who would have then escorted the two to Orthanc. He might have had them as well as Mirkwood's young prince! Imagining what creatures could be wrought from such specimens, and what advances he could have made with subjects so ripe to be bent to his will, he felt the fresh flush of fury flood his mind. With great effort, he calmed his understandable rage. It was not to be. He would change his plans, for, with Gandalf aware of the spell, if not the purpose of it, the disappearance of any of them in the near future would arouse too much suspicion. 

There was little he could do now but remove the spell.

His thoughts were interrupted. The Lady Galadriel came to stand by her afflicted grandson. She stared into his eyes, and Saruman sensed some strange magic emanating from her touch. What it could be, he did not know. The surprise of it was more than he could stand. 

The Lady of the Golden Wood had gained a reputation as a Sorceress or a Witch in some circles, but Saruman had not heard tell that there was any truth to such outlandish stories. Could the Lady have acquired some knowledge of magic? Some talisman that could name him as he who had cast the spell on her grandson and Glorfindel? Could she be a threat to his plans? Saruman stepped closer to the Noldor elves, grandmother and grandson, and awaited his opportunity. 

**

Galadriel stared into the eyes of her grandson. Gandalf's words had shaken her, and she knew she could not lose this child–elfling he might not be to his own eyes, but to her, one so young could be considered naught but a child. In truth only Celeborn, Mithrandir, and Saruman were of an age to hers. She was surrounded by youth. The eldest of her race had reached the shores of Valinor.

Thoughts of the Undying Lands led her wandering mind to her daughter already awaiting her family on those distant white shores. Galadriel knew that if Elrohir fell to some malady, Elladan would not be long for this world. Whether the eldest of her grandchildren succumbed to the final torment of elven grief and fled to Mandos' Hall–which she thought likely if anything befell his twin–or sought the healing grace of Valinor and his mother's loving embrace, Elrond's path would be clear. Galdriel knew Elrond could not survive such loss unless he sailed immediately to Valinor, and without Arwen, he would not do it. 

Undomiel, of course, would not go. Galadriel had foreseen that before the fair Evenstar's birth. It was a secret she had shared only with her husband. Elrond and Celebrian would not have taken such news well in the first flush of excitement when she had just been born. In the interceding years, it had not seemed possible that a light as fair as Arwen's could fade, so Galadriel had put the prophecy out of mind.

Elrond, she knew, had always believed that each of his children would choose as he had and sail to Valinor. Galadriel knew, as did Celeborn, that the reverse was true. None of Elrond's children would choose the way of the Eldar. 

The pain of losing his twin, Elros, to the choice of a mortal life had been a burden that had nearly crippled Elrond. She had expected him to sail then, but he had somehow survived. He had not, however, remained unscathed by the experience. Loss of his twin–and later, separation from his wife, had left Elrond bereft of hope. Until hope had been returned to him in the guise of a small human child Elrond had clearly named not for the sake of the men who would one day be delivered, but for the gift the child had given him.

She smiled at that thought. In many ways, Estel had returned Elrond to himself. The small child, dependent upon him for protection, had found a way into the elf lord's heart.

The Choice of the Children of the Half-Elven, however, remained far in the future. Whatever had befallen Elrohir had not been a part of Eru's original plan. This had been done to him by some foul fiend, and as long as she drew breath, Galadriel would not allow such an abomination if she could find a way to prevent it.

  
Holding Elrohir's hands, she smiled at him. "You are weary." She told him, allowing her voice to soothe him. "Do not be afraid." She held a hand then over his eyes, and it seemed her touch sent him into some slumber unnaturally deep for an elf, for when she moved her hand away from them, his eyes were closed. 

She closed her own eyes, unwilling to look upon her daughter's husband until she could assure him that his son would be well. 

Spirit to spirit, she and Elrohir sought answers to his strange condition. She felt it worsening even as she held him to her. She felt a great despair wash over her as a strangely comforting voice reached her ears. The words were kind, the tone concerned, but they stirred only despondency. 

She opened her eyes then, and stared into the ones that beheld her. Saruman the White had long held his exalted position as Chief of the Istari, and Galadriel, though she had met him on rare occasions, had never had the thought of ascertaining the bent of his mind. Now, almost casually, she did so, or rather, she tried. Never had a mind been so completely closed to her. Never had a thought been so well guarded. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words did not come. Something was amiss, yet she could not say what it was.

**

Saruman's deepest concern was that one of the Elves, or perhaps Gandalf himself, might uncover his connection to the Dark Lord. It was not likely, but Galadriel seemed drawn to help her grandson, he could fathom no reason for such anxiety as he saw in her eyes except that she sensed something. Saruman had cast the spell that afflicted both Elrohir and Glorfindel rather suddenly. Such magic, cast almost carelessly, might be traced. If he were identified as the source, his plans would be revealed long before he willed it.

The Lady of the Golden Wood possessed some magic. Of that he was certain. In watching her movements and her gestures, minute thought they be, he discerned something of magic at her command. What it was, he could not guess, nor did he think it threat enough to distract him now. Whatever magic she wielded, it would not be enough to undo his, but it might be enough to _detect_ his. He needed to buy time. To keep her away from the pair of elves and from the Mirkwood princeling until he could determine the wisest course of action. It would take some doing, but he was confident. After all, none here could claim to be his match in magic, power, or intellect. 

"Leave them to rest." He whispered. "I will consult what few scrolls I carry whenever I travel. Perhaps I can remember some spell of protection or reversal."

Galadriel hesitated.

"You look weary, my dear. Perhaps you should rest as well." Saruman used all the magic of his voice. Tone and pitch conveyed only affection and care for her well being. 

He gestured for Celeborn. "She should rest. You all should. You have battled the Dark Lord's Sorcerers. It is late, and once already your slumber has been interrupted. A night's rest will give you the strength you will need to face the morrow." He noted with satisfaction how each who heard his voice seemed to grow ever wearier until it took all of their concentration to remain upright and awake. Before long the guard was set, those who could eat were doing so, and those who could not were drifting into a deep sleep. 

  
Elrohir and Glorfindel seemed at ease, and the others seemed satisfied that they had accomplished a great deal.

Gandalf alone seemed edgy.

  
Saruman settled himself as though to sleep, but kept a watchful eye on his Grey colleague. He would need to remain alert, but Grey could not conquer White.

**

Gandalf found himself agreeing with Saruman's words. It had cost him much to do what he had done for Estel and Legolas. He glanced at the two, once more in their fathers' arms and nodded in relief that they both seemed well. Rest would do more good than standing about wishing they could find some way to help Elrohir and Glorfindel. Saruman was wise indeed, and Gandalf was grateful that he had found his way to their little group.

He walked to Elrond's side and gestured to the peacefully sleeping human cradled in the Elf Lord's arms. "He sleeps?"

  
Elrond nodded. "It seems an easy rest, though a deep one. He was near to death if Galadriel's visions can be believed."

"Ah! Never is she wrong."

"But Estel did not die."

  
Gandalf smiled. "She did not say he would. She only claimed he was dying. He was."

Elrond smiled in return. "Puzzles and riddles. I can always count upon you for such things."

  
Gandalf's smile widened, and he wished the Elf Lord good night. 

**

Elrohir dreamed. His mind walked the golden fields of elven sleep seeking peace, comfort, and beauty. It was while he dreamed that he felt some presence at the edge of awareness. Unsure if it were some part of his dream, or someone standing by him in the waking world, he merely watched for a moment.

He felt a light yet caress across his brow, a hint, a tickle of feeling, but when it had gone he knew this presence to be his grandmother. Galadriel watched over him as he slept. He saw her but rarely, but he knew Arwen was with her often. When he and Elladan tired in their endless pursuit of orcs, they would return to the Golden Wood and there allow the love and presence of Arwen and Galadriel to soothe their tired spirits. 

  
Now, seeing her, feeling her above him this way, Elrohir felt the same sense of safety and healing that permeated Lothlorien. He relaxed and released the worries he had felt weighing heavy upon him, and allowed peace to claim him.

**

Glorfindel stood and moved to stand beside the Lady of the Golden Wood. She stood by Elrohir, having attempted sleep, but returned soon after.

"My Lady, Saruman suggested rest" He was surprised when she cut off his words. Galadriel was a patient elf. For her to interrupt him was a surprise.

  
Immediately, the Lady turned to face him, her eyes betraying her worry for her grandson, and for all who had been injured. "There is more here than we can tell." She gestured to Elrohir, and knelt by him, lightly stroking the creases from his forehead. In moments, a contented expression had replaced the troubled one he'd worn. "The spell Gandalf senses is no sleeping spell. I would know what it is."

  
Glordindel nodded, and, without hesitation, knelt before her. "I am similarly afflicted, My Lady. If it would help" He let the sentence trail knowing she would know what he meant.

She smiled at him and extended a hand and hand it over his eyes. As Elrohir had earlier, Glorfindel slipped into some slumber unnaturally deep for an elf. 

  
She examined him. Of that, he was certain. He felt her presence, though it was comforting and not unwelcome and harsh as had been the strange moments when this condition seemed to hit him. "My Lady" he gasped, but was not sure if it were dream or actual speech. He felt her surprise as she searched for some clue as to the spell used upon him. Had she found something? So quickly? He paused for breath, and in his mind, begged to know what had happened. He heard her light laughter mingled with her words as she spoke to him. "It is well, _mellonin_. The spell has no strong hold upon you."

Suddenly, he was awake and blinking. "Do you" He paused, his attention attempting to decide if he had dreamed it all. "Do you know what spell this was?"

  
"I know its purpose. I must confer with Gandalf." She rose gracefully and her gentle gliding step took her to the Grey Wizard's side.

**

Celeborn approached Gandalf as his Lady drew near him. He would know what Galdariel had discovered, for he was certain she had indeed found something. He stood unobtrusive as she spoke to the Wizard.

"The spell's purposeI could not tell before, but I am certain it is meant to do no more than we witnessed."

"Disorient?" Gandalf's brows crossed at the revelation and Celeborn could see him trying to reason out this puzzle.

Galadriel inclined her head slightly in a more refined imitation of the human nod. "It was hastily cast. It should have struck at once and not waxed and waned as it did. He who cast it wished to separate two of our number from us. For what purpose I cannot tell, but it surely must be a sinister one."

Gandalf nodded and cast an eye to Elrohir and Glorfindel. 

Celeborn did not speak, though his mind reeled at the thought. Two of their number meant to fall by the wayside. Two elves meant towhat? Be taken as captives? By whom? It seemed what answers they discovered would only beget more questions.

Gandalf spoke drawing the Lord's attention. "Can it be undone?"

Celeborn stepped forward. He was unwilling to interrupt, but a question had plagued him. "Can a spell cast by a now dead wizard be removed at all?"

Gandalf turned to look at the elven lord, and Celeborn saw an odd glimmer in his eye that spoke of a most unappetizing notion have been planted in his mind. "We can only try. Countering such magic can be demanding, but there are enough of us here who wield such elvish spells that we should be able to make some difference." 

He turned to Galadriel and Celeborn noted the flush of concern on his face. "Is there any immediate danger? I would not use even so benevolent a spell as weary as I am, but if you sense some imminent threat, we should see to it now."

  
Celeborn saw Galadriel's hesitation. "What is it, _melethnin_?" (My love)

"I am well, my husband." She turned to address Gandalf. "I would not leave them unprotected, but if we can simply cast some spell of protection I think we may rest easily until morning."

Gandalf nodded and walked towards the two elves. In a matter of moments, he had cast a light protection spell over the two. 

"There! No magic can touch them until Gandalf I remove that spell!" Satisfied he bid the Lord and Lady good evening. 

They returned his well wishes, and Celeborn and Galadriel lingered a moment by the still sleeping Elrohir and the just drifting off Glorfindel.

"Is your mind eased, my wife?" 

"As eased as it is possible for it to be without us having returned to Lothlorien."

Celeborn nodded. "When we have removed that spell, perhaps we should begin the return journey. Our injured brethren will find better rest in the Golden Wood."

Galadriel smiled. "If they are well enough for travel, yes. I myself desire to be much further from the mouth of this cave when next I seek rest."

Celeborn decided to speak to Elrond about this in the morning. Surely something could be done. Estel could ride with Elladan, perhaps, and Legolas with either Thranduil or Aglarelen for he doubted either could sit a horse. The Golden Wood was several weeks away, but once there, the rest the injured would receive could not be rivaled. 

Yes, they would resume their journey on the morrow.

**

Saruman cursed his luck. Gandalf the Fool had ruined his plans! He'd waited for Galadriel and Gandalf to leave the elves, but instead they had cast a spell of protection. He could not touch them! He might have tried to counter the spell, but countering a protection spell required careful preparation, and he had no time for such a thing.

He knew that he would have to work with great speed in the morning to remove the spell before he was detected. He might have to leave it and risk discovery. He despised the uncertainty of it all!

His rage died as he considered his options. Cold and calculating, he realized he might yet be able to lay blame for this spell at Alatar's feet. Glorfindel had earlier spoken to Elrohir about their weakness in battle. The orcs had attacked inside the cavern. Saruman determined that he could cast a spell upon the cavern itself and remove it. Gandalf and Galadriel would notice only that magic had been used. Perhaps then, he could cast a spell on Elrohir and Glorfindel that would erase that one he had cast, yet would seem like one Alatar would have cast. It would bear some thought, and certainly some study. 

Saruman returned to his horse. He had secreted some dark tomes within his saddlebags. He rummaged through them and removed the heaviest books. He saw then the horse staring at him. He despised the creature, but if possible to ride, he refused to walk. Glaring at the horse, he began to walk past it, when with no warning, it gave a snort and clamped its teeth hard upon Saruman's shoulder.

Yelping in pain, he struck the horse twice before it released him.

Elrond was by his side in an instant having witnessed the entire thing. "Allow me to look at that, Saruman."

Impatient to be alone with his research, Saruman shook his head. "It is nothing, Lord Elrond."

  
"I insist! You are doing so much for us"

"It is nothing, Lord Elrond." Saruman repeated testily. "I am well."

He felt the elf lord's eyes staring at him as he moved away, but he did not deign to address the fool again. He had much work to do this night, and he had not the time to spare for creatures normally beneath his notice. 

****

To Be Continued

Grumpy: Thanks for your review! Estel and Legolas both are more able to do a thing if it's for someone else's sake, I think. (Well, of _course_, _I_ think so. That's why I wrote it that way!) I hope you like that Saruman didn't actually touch Elrohir and Glorfindel! 

Catherinexxix: Thanks for reviewing. Of course! I have to make sure you'll come back. I like to know someone's reading this! I'm glad you like how everyone senses something wrong but quickly denies the idea. I was hoping that came across as both their certainty that Saruman is on their side, and partially Saruman's words being able to convince them, magically, that he's on their side. Hee! You're partial to our Grey Wizard, too, aren't you? Thanks for that thought. I was hoping that wasn't tooover the top. Don't worry. More soon!

  
Sparrow Greenleaf: Yes, Saruman = evil. It's a shame no one knows that except us! Aragorn and Legolas needed that hug! Thanks for reviewing.

Tychen: I thought that bit with Thranduil would go over big! I really just write what I'd like to see, and so far everyone's responding positively to that! There's quite a bit more to come. Saruman's not likely to benefit, however. Thanks for reviewing.

White Wolf1: Thanks for reviewing! Good idea waiting until ff.net recovered somewhat. You've described exactly the reactions I was going for! Thanks! Yes, the power of the friendship between Aragorn and Legolas is probably what keeps us all coming back for more!

Gozilla: Thanks for reviewing! More soon! BTW, thanks for reviewing The Path That Need Chooses. I've actually been thinking of a rewrite on some of those chapters to fix some of the more glaring errors. I'm thrilled you enjoyed it!

  
Estelreader: You really made my day! You like how I write all the characters? I'm overjoyed. I love these characters so much, and I'm thrilled my readers like what I'm doing with them. I put more Aragorn in because I realized I missed him. Don't worry. There's plenty more of him to come in the next few chapters. Aragorn is into the sacrificing of himself for the "greater good" so it seemed the way to go! To quote you: "OK - Faith brings back Hope and soon Hope will restore Faith. LOL! This is getting more profound than last Sunday's serman *g*. Please continue!" Hee! I love the way you put that! Yes, I will most certainly continue! Thanks for reviewing!

Sirithiliel: Oh, right! I forgot! I will post more soon. I already have a lot of ideas for the next chapter or two! Thanks for reviewing!

  
Silvertoekee: I agree with you about Aragorn! Hee! Saruman does deserve what he gets and more, but I have to be careful here about retribution since no one knows how corrupt he is yet. Of course, timeline-wise, he's probably not as corrupt here as he is in FOTR, TTT, and ROTK (Bookverse). Anyone know the actual timeframe for Saruman's fall? I think I have to go back and reread Unfinished Tales. Thanks for the review!

  
Gwyn: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked the chapter. I gather you didn't appreciate having to wait what with the last cliffie. 

Jopru: Thanks! Sorry about the cliffie. This one wasn't quite so bad, was it? Next chapter soon! I promise!

Ryuujin Dragon King" (Ecri blushes ten shades of red!) Thanks so much! Wow! What a kind thing to say! Andwow! A Chocolate Bar the size of Texas? For that I'll try to finish the next chapter so quickly my computer buffer won't be able to keep up with me! Hee! That's the way to my heart! Large quantities of chocolate! I do try to give the characters equal attention, though I'm afraid I've made some more equal like others. (Like pigsexcuse the Orwell reference. I couldn't control myself!) I'm glad you like my Elladan and Elrohir so much! Legolas and Aragorn's relationship is a beautiful thing, though most of it is fanon. I think I've mentioned before that there is a basis in the books for it just in Legolas denying the sea longing for so long just for the sake of staying in Middle-earth until Aragorn dies. I'm glad you like what I've added to itwith Legolas/Faith and Aragorn/Hope. Thanks for reviewing!

Elven Kitten: Thanks for reviewing! I promise to post more soon!

Cosmic Castaway: I'm typing! I promise! I'm typing! Thanks for reviewing!

Gabby_the_elf: Thanks so much! That's so sweet! I'm glad you like it and I will post more soon! Thanks for reviewing!


	24. part 24

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.

I wanted to post this sooner, but I have been unable to log onto Fanfiction.net. Thanks to all who reviewed. 

I'm working on chapter 25 as you read this! Keep reading!

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 24

By Ecri

Haldir kept his bow at his side, arrow ready. He did not usually keep an arrow nocked when he kept watch, trusting his own draw was more than sufficiently enough fast to make it unnecessary, but this watch left him riddled with unease. Perhaps it was their proximity to the cavern. They were well aware that orcs had been there, whether they dwelt within the dark confines of the dank, musty stone walls, or whether they had come there through some unfathomable series of tunnels far beneath the surface was of little concern to the March Warden. 

  
That his Lord and Lady, the King of Mirkwood and two of his heirs, the Lord of Rivendell and two of his heirs as well as his adopted human son, _and_ Lord Glorfindel remained within such easy reach of the dismal hole did concern him. He would have preferred to set up a camp much further from this place, but such choices were not his to make. He knew why the decision had been made. The injured were in need of immediate attention and it had seemed to make sense somehow to stay close to shelter in case a storm or other such thing would force them inside. 

He shuddered involuntarily at the thought even as his eyes and ears scanned the immediate area for threat. An elf would seek shelter from a horrific storm in times of great need, but Haldir, accustomed to life lived among the embracing branches of the most stately trees in all of Middle-earth, could not imagine any need driving any elf to willing seek shelter within dank, oppressive, sun-hiding stone.

Haldir then thought of what had led them to this. His Lady's visions often took some of her warriors far from home, but none with such need for haste. They had ridden like the very minions of Sauron pursued them. That Mithrandir rode with them did not surprise him, for long had he kept company with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. It was a comfort having him nearby. Though the same was not so for his brother Wizard.

Saruman had long been an enigma to Haldir. He did not presume to know the workings of any Istari mind, but Saruman puzzled him. True, Haldir knew Gandalf well, but he had met Radagast the brown only once, and Saruman the White only once. Perhaps it was Gandalf who was the exception. Perhaps the other wizards were all more inclined to solitude and Gandalf's approachable, helpful nature was the aberration. 

  
Whichever was the norm, Haldir knew only that he did not like the White Wizard. He never really had. Their first meeting had shown the March Warden that Saruman thought himself superior to others. While he would easily accept a Maia was superior to him, he could not understand the easy disdain towards the opinions of others and the indifference bordering on disrespect Saruman exhibited towards Celeborn and Galadriel. Of course, that _had_ been a meeting of high emotion and that could well have contributed to Haldir's perception. He'd been told before that his duties often blinded him to opposing opinions. Truly, he still could not dismiss the desire that the White Wizard would return to his dark tower and allow them to do as they saw fit. 

To Haldir's mind, that's just what this was, an elven matter best addressed by elves. Certainly Prince Legolas' surprising affliction could be considered nothing else than an elvish matter, and Estel's, Glorfindel's, and Elrohir's injuries had been sustained while seeking information about that condition.

  
Haldir was confident that Celeborn, Galadriel, and Gandalf would be well able to determine how best to help them. Realizing he had been accepting of Gandalf's involvement in an elven' matter simply underscored the truth. Haldir did not like Saruman.

Lorien's March Warden wiped such petulant thoughts from his mind and raised a hand to signal to his closest companion that all was well. Waiting for a moment, he saw a hand lifted to return the signal, and so on until he was assured that the perimeter was secure.

He and the others who had taken the evening watch when Glorfindel had assigned it had heard the various disturbances and outcries from within the encampment. Disturbed and concerned, to be sure, each elven warrior knew his duty and remained ever vigilant. None would break the line they held without orders.

The March Warden did start a bit when he saw Saruman approaching his horse. Keeping his attention divided between duty and curiosity was not something he would usually permit himself, but something about the White Wizard drew his attention. He saw Saruman rummage through his saddlebags and remove some reference. Assuming the Wizard sought some way to help the injured of their party he turned back to his duty. The sudden neighing followed by a scream of pain, brought him, and indeed several of his companions to face Saruman, their bows aimed and ready.

Haldir blinked in surprise at the sight of the Wizard being bitten by his own steed. Signaling silently to the others to stay their weapons and return to their duty, Haldir was somewhat surprised at himself when he could not suppress a small smile at the White Wizard's discomfort.

**

With the dawn, the elves made preparations to depart for Lothlorien. The injured had been declared fit for travel, though Glorfindel insisted he could not be considered injured by any definition of the word–in any language.

  
Glorfindel had spoken to Elrond and Celeborn about the journey. All had agreed that Estel, though severely concussed, would be able to travel a short distance before he required rest. Neither Estel nor Legolas had yet wakened, but neither were they disturbed by the noiseless movements of the elves breaking camp.

Once they were underway, Glorfindel felt he could breathe easily for the first time since they'd arrived at the horrid cave. It was like a bright sun shone down after a dark storm. The air seemed lighter, and the clean scent of earth permeated the air. Travel was necessarily slow, but the very act of leaving that cursed cavern was enough to lift any elf's spirits.

He knew this strange euphoria he felt might be a side effect of the protection spell. Galadriel and Gandalf had suggested they keep the spell in place until reaching Lothlorien, and had ultimately found no reason not to do just that. Saruman seemed less than pleased with the situation, but Glorfindel could not find it within him to care. That Elrond was satisfied was more than enough reason to continue on their way.

  
He looked to Elrond now, who supported Estel before him on his steed. The Lord of Imladris kept careful note of his son's condition, and all matched their speed to his. He was given leave to call what halts he would, and he was given leave to determine when they had ridden as far as Estel could go for the day.

Lord Elrond's worry was apparent to any who knew the Lord. His grip upon his son's waist was not loose, nor tight. One hand came up to Estel's brow on occasion–probably more often than was warranted–to check the young man's head. Elrond peered now into one of Estel's eyes and frowned.

Glorfindel's practiced eye roamed over the Ranger, taking in his obvious discomfort and his obvious wish to hide it. He saw Estel smile at his father, but did not try to hear what was said. It would have been easy enough, but eavesdropping was not a thing an elf undertook lightly. He was relieved to see Elrond smile as though reassured, or perhaps amused by his son's words. 

Just that morning ere they had ridden for Lothlorien, he had spoken to Elrond of their predicament. "My friend, the road to Lothlorien is long, and will be made longer by the pace we must keep. Are you certain there is no other destination? Perhaps we should return to Rivendell." Glorfindel doubted his friend would take such advice but he had to offer it.

Elrond tore his gaze from his sleeping son. "Nay, my friend. Rivendell would be just as far a road. Besides which, we must not forget our purpose. We left Imladris because we could not find a way to help Legolas. We cannot abandon our quest merely because of injury."

"It is no small injury."

Elrond hadn't replied, for just then, Estel had awoken, and it took some time to prepare him to travel.

Glorfindel checked the sun's position and determined that they had traveled a fair distance though their pace was slow. He was not surprised therefore when Elrond called a halt. The Elf Lord gestured for Glofindel to assist him.

Glorfindel dismounted and stood by Elrond's horse, and though Estel protested, Elrond handed the human down to Glorfindel, who easily supported the Ranger in his strong arms until Elrond could dismount. Settling the man by a tree, Elrond immediately inspected his bandages, making not a sound by which his pleasure or displeasure could be judged.

  
"Well?" Estel asked the question with just a hint of exasperation.

To Glorfindel's surprise, Elrond very nearly smirked, but caught himself. "Is that an entire question?"

Estel sighed. "I meant to ask if I'mif you're satisfied with my recovery."

"You have barely begun to heal, my son." Elrond glanced at Glorfindel, a twinkle in his eye. "However," he continued. "I amby your progress."

Estel smiled. "So I may ride on my own?"

Elrond and Glorfindel's laughter echoed through the makeshift camp.

"I did not say that, Estel! No, you may not ride on your own until I have given my permission, and before you ask" he said, as Estel opened his mouth, "I will tell you when you are ready, and it is not now!"

Reluctantly, Estel nodded and settled back down to allow his father to finish his examination. "What of Legolas?"

"He is the next patient I will be seeing." 

Glorfindel followed the quick glance his friend cast in the direction of Thranduil and his sons. "I will tell them you will be by." Glorfindel didn't wait for Elrond's reply.

**

Legolas had never spent a more uncomfortable time on horseback in his life. He was an accomplished rider, and had taken to horses at a young age, even for an elf. It was well known in Mirkwood that if the youngest prince could not be found among the treetops, he would be with his favorite horse, Fëagaladhad. Riding had always been a joy to Legolas, but this ride had been fraught with pain and with drifting in and out of consciousness. 

When Lord Elrond called the halt, Legolas was more than ready to dismount. Handed down to Aglarelen from his father's supportive grip was a new experience in pain, though he tried to hide it. Aglarelen eased him to the ground, and sat just behind him cradling him against his chest.

Allowing the embrace to ease away the ache of the hours upon horseback, he closed his eyes and almost immediately drifted off to sleep. It should have been more restorative, but his sleep was a troubled one. Images of the battle with Alatar and Pallando replayed in his mind. Orcs appeared to aid the Wizards, and Legolas let fly arrow after arrow. Again, as he had in reality, he watched his arrow take down one of the Ithryn Luin. He saw the Maia crumble, and heard the other Wizard's rage. The dream shifted and, under the other Wizard's control, Legolas raised a sword and

Sitting up abruptly, his heart pounding, his eyes wide, Legolas heard his own voice crying out for Estel, yet he was unsure if it was a dream. The pain in his side and the throb in his foot brought the reality of the moment home to him, and he realized that not only had he spoken, but many people were answering him.

"Legolas? What is it?" 

"Legolas! I am here!"

"My brother? Are you ill?"

  
Legolas heard the voices, but his confused, panicked mind could make no sense of them. Reflexively, he retreated to the strong memories of his childhood, and of his father offering comfort. "Ada?" He could hear the anxiety, the fear in his own voice, and hoped no one else could.

Thranduil was suddenly in front of him, strong hands grasping his son's still trembling ones. "My son! What is it? What has happened?"

Legolas, however, was not prepared to share his heart's secrets. He thought of saying he had had a nightmare, for in truth, he was certain that was what it had been. It was not prescience, for he had dreamed the past. He had not had much experience with nightmares, for they were not common among elves, but he had had one or two in Rivendell during the long winter before they had set out for Lothlorien. He knew his father loved him. He did not doubt it, yet he could not bring himself to speak of so human a thing to him. " I cannot say. Ada" 

He stopped himself with a frown. He wanted to tell his father that he had dreamed. He had dreamed in the way of men. Vivid images, sometime linear and telling a story, sometimes comforting, and sometimesnot. He had shared much thought with Estel when first he had found himself human about such things. Accustomed to the softer images of elven dreaming, he had not understood these things, and in truth his first nightmare had left him shaken and unwilling to seek rest for sometime.

He recalled speaking to Estel about it. Spring was fast approaching when one stormy night, he had suffered an embarrassment he never could have predicted.

In the midst of the storm, following a particularly loud clap of thunder, Legolas had awoken to find himself sitting up in bed, clutching his blankets in a white-knuckled grip, and screaming as though he faced Morgoth himself.

He was startled anew when his bedroom door flew open to reveal Aglarelen, Lord Elrond, Aragorn, Elladan, and Elrohir each carrying a candle and each wearing a look of dazed concern. They entered the room, Aglarelen sitting upon his bed and gazing worriedly at him, Aragorn standing at the foot of the bed and staring at him, and the twins standing just behind their father, who stood a short distance from where Aglarelen sat.

Still breathing quite heavily, his heart pounding as though it would try to outrun his jumbled thoughts, Legolas was having difficulty reconciling what his eyes told him was a safe haven from the horrifying images that had moments ago been his reality.

He tried to speak, but his voice would not come. Clearing his throat, he tried again, but only managed a hoarse whisper. "I am sorry." He would have said more, but his brother thrust a cup of water into his hands, and, shakily, Legolas drank.

Noting that his hands shook, Legolas stared in open-mouthed horror at them. One thought raced through his mind. _What is wrong with me?_

"I do not know what happened. I wasI seemed to be" He paused and started again addressing himself to Aragorn. "It must have been a dream!" His astonishment could not have been more apparent. "It was much like that, only"

"This dream scared you." Aragorn's suggestion seemed accurate enough to Legolas.

"It did, mellonin. It wasfrightening." Legolas realized he was shivering.

Aglarelen was puzzled. "Dreams? How can dreams"

Lord Elrond cut him off. "These are not the comforting images and emotions of elven sleep, Aglarelen. He has suffered what humans term a nightmare' and from what I know of them, they can frighten a person as badly as the sight of a thousand orcs baying for blood might scare an elfling of no more than a few years old."

Aglarelen had shaken his head in consternation, but could offer little comfort. He was entirely unfamiliar with the experience. The Crown Prince turned to Lord Elrond. "How do you know so much of them?"

  
Elrond offered a sad smile. "I have had some experience. My brother, my son" He gestured towards Aragorn. The Elf Lord then took the empty cup from Legolas' still shaking hands and placed it on the table. Crossing the room, he opened a small cupboard and removed an extra blanket. He moved back to Legolas' side, and draped it over the young prince's still shivering body. "I think it would be best to leave this to those who best understand it." He leaned closer then and placed a comforting kiss upon Legolas' brow. Ushering his twins out of the room, he looked at Aglarelen, and the Crown prince realized he was meant to follow. 

His eyes flew to Legolas' face unwilling to leave him after such an experience. Legolas smiled. "I am well, Aglarelen. Honestly, I am."

  
Aglarelen looked to Aragorn who made a gesture that was half nod and half bow. "I have had such dreams. I will help him."

Reluctantly, Aglarelen stood and, as Lord Elrond had done, kissed his brother's brow. "You need only call for me, Greenleaf, and I will be by your side."

"I know it well, my brother." Legolas offered a shaky smile and watched his brother leave with Lord Elrond and the twins. He did not fool himself. Aglarelen would likely be speaking to Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir half the night to reassure himself that Legolas was indeed well.

He turned to face Aragorn who moved from the end of the bed to take up the place Aglarelen had just vacated. "Do you remember what it was you dreamed?"

Hesitantly, Legolas nodded.

Aragorn smiled. "Would you like to tell me, or shall I simply guess until dawn?"

Some part of his mind registered the attempt at humor, but Legolas could not acknowledge it. "This dreamingI do not like it." The insistence in his voice, the unconscious tone that since he did not like it, it should cease immediately also did not register with the Prince.

"I do not like it either, when it turns to nightmare. Still, those are rare. You will feel better if you talk about it." Aragorn waited.

Legolas did not know where to begin and said as much. 

"Begin with the first thing you recall and stop at the point where you are sitting up in bed wondering why all these people were standing around your bed." Aragorn's tone was light, but he seemed to speak in earnest.

This time Legolas smirked at his friend recognizing the humor in his words. Still, he delayed speaking of the dream. "Do you often have such dreams?"

Aragorn looked away, but just as quickly looked back to his friend. "I had them most often when I was younger, but yes, from time to time, they still haunt me." He spread his hands in an all-encompassing gesture. "It is inevitable."

"It is normal then?"

"Completely."

"Almost mundane?

"WellI wouldn't say"

"So there is naught to speak of"

  
"Legolas"

With a sigh, Legolas described his dream.

Aragorn listened to every word, and spoke when the prince finished. "A reasonable dream. You fear for your father because he is far from you. Your worry simply came out in the dream."

"I saw him _die_, Estel."

Aragorn shook his head. "You did _not_ see him die. You saw a dream image die. He is well."

Legolas wanted to believe his friend, but fear would not allow it. "How do we know that?"  


Aragorn looked him in the eye and spoke very softly. "What does your heart tell you?"

Legolas almost brushed the question away, but when he paused to consider it, he could not help but smile. "That Thranduil yet lives."

Aragorn smiled. "Then you have your answer."

Legolas had soon drifted off to sleep, though not until he was too weary to resist the closing of his eyes–a thing he had not yet grown accustomed to doing. 

Then, Estel had eased his heart's pain, but nowThere was a doubt within his mind. Doubt that he knew would nip at his heels all the days of his life–mortal or immortal–if he did not seek to take its teeth. How could he lay this to rest? He could not help but think there was no one who could easily help him. No one could claim to have done a thing half so awful as he had done. To whom could he turn? His father would certainly try to soothe him with soft words and logic insisting he had done only what he had to do, and truly his mind was willing to believe such things, but his heartai! His heart was not so willing.

**

Aragorn heard Legolas call his name, but it was the voice of fright, of nightmare that rang through their camp. 

While his father had been checking his injuries, Legolas had fallen asleep. Glorfindel had returned to Lord Elrond and informed him of that just as the Elf Lord had finished checking Aragorn's head.

Elrond had cast a worried glance at the Prince, but Aragorn had seen him force himself to relax. "It is just as well. The ride was exhausting, and if Estel's reaction is any indication, I am sure it was painful."

  
"Ada! I am fine! You said so yourself!" Aragorn insisted.

Elrond smiled. "I said you _would be_ fine."

Aragorn conceded the point, more interested in Legolas' condition. "Will you still check him?"

Elrond nodded as he rose. "I will indeed."

  
Aragorn had then watched as his father walked over to Legolas and examined him while speaking in quiet tones to Thranduil and Aglarelen. Aragorn considered rising and walking to his friend's side, but the throbbing in his head made more than the thought of such a thing impossible. 

  
With Legolas asleep, the others began to set up a cooking fire to prepare some food while they waited for him to awake. No doubt Legolas would find it embarrassing to have held up the entire group, but Aragorn intended to thank him. Even the gentle walk of his father's horse had only seemed to aggravate the pain in his head. Each step the animal took was like a spike being driven through his brain by an army of angry dwarves.

He looked to his left as Elladan settled there beside him. "How is Elrohir?" Aragorn was as consumed with worry for his brother as for his friend.

Elladan glanced to where his brother was speaking to Galadriel and Gandalf. "He is feeling much better, but Gandalf believes that is from the protection spell. Galadriel thinks that spell should be removed so we can find a way to counter the other one."

"Was that really meant to separate Elrohir and Glorfindel from the group?" Aragorn did not like to think what might have happened once the two had been taken away.

"That is what Gandalf and Grandmother believe." He turned to face his human brother. "Estel, what do you recall about going to the cavern?"

  
Aragorn considered the question. He'd been thinking about that for most of the time since his father had gone to check Legolas. He could not help but feel responsible for the prince's injuries. Legolas had sustained them because he had tried to help Aragorn.

"I remember nothing. I only recall coming aware once Legolas had injured the Wizards. He and I stumbled about for awhileI know not how I came to be there, and I have not had the chance to speak to Legolas about it." He looked his brother in the eye. "What of you? What do you recall of the sleeping spell?"

Elladan shook his head. "I have spoken to Gandalf, Grandmother, and Elrohir about it. I recall only when I awoke. I was struggling to wake, and I wished to call to ElrohirI noticed Ada was not nearby. I also saw that you and Legolas were missingGandalf believes the spell was designed specifically to hinder an elf's ability to wake. In truth, it was like no sleep I have ever known save those induced by some of Ada's elixirs." 

"If it was designed to hinder an elf, why was Ada not affected?" Aragorn was puzzled.

"I was affected." 

Aragorn was startled by his father's words. "Ada? How is Legolas?"

Elrond smiled and sat beside his sons. "He is still asleep. The journey was difficult, and sleep is the best thing for him."

Elladan interrupted. "You say you were affected? I did not see you when we rose?"

Elrond nodded and explained how he had awoken and gone in search of Legolas and Aragorn. "I saw you and Elrohir struggling, but I could not wait. I was not sure what Estel faced."

Elladan nodded.

"Ada, why was Legolas not affected?" Aragorn's confusion only grew as his brother and father exchanged looks. "What?"

"Legolas is no longer an elf. If the spell hindered only elves, he would have been safe." 

Elrond's explanation made perfect sense to Aragorn. "Why did I not think of that?" 

Elladan laughed. "Perhaps the blow to the head, the concussion"

It was then that Legolas' voice broke through the camp.

"Estel! Estel! No!"

"Legolas! I am here!" Aragorn bellowed, trying to move, but being unable as Elladan's hand clamped down upon his shoulder.

Elrond moved to his other patient's side as Thranduil answered his son's cry.

  
Aragorn looked to his brother, but Elladan put up his hands. "Nay, my brother! I will not help you to stand!"

"Then I will stand on my own." Aragorn rolled slowly to his side, placing his hands on the ground for support. He got to his knees, and was concentrating intently on getting from knees to feet. 

Elladan's arms circled his waist, offering support and strength. "If you insist on doing this, Estel, I will at least make sure you do not injure yourself further."

  
Aragorn smiled as Elldan took his weight by drawing Aragorn's arm across his shoulders. They reached Legolas' side, and Aragorn was quick to note that his friend was indeed glad to see him.

"I am well" Legolas faltered as he tried to explain. Pleading eyes locked onto Estel's. "_Mellonin"(My friend"_

Aragorn understood immediately. "My friend, do not let such things trouble you."

"Nay, Estel, I know I should not" He looked at the crowd of elves and back to his friend.

Aragorn nodded as though in reply to an unasked question, then turned to Elrond. "Ada, may I speak to Legolas alone?"

  
Elrond seemed reluctant but nodded, much to Aragorn's relief. Elladan settled his brother next to the wounded prince, and, with great reluctance, and much hesitation on Thranduil's part, the pair was left alone.

"Can you speak of it now?" Aragorn looked into Legolas' troubled eyes, willing his friend to speak to him.

"I do not know." 

"Did you dream something bizarre and unrelated to reality or something rooted in our actual Middle-earth?" Aragorn hoped Legolas would respond to questions, but when he didn't respond, the human leaned closer, whispering to Legolas. "You are not alone, Legolas. I am, as ever, by your side. Let me share your burden.

Legolas closed his eyes. "Oh, _mellonin,_ I do not think even your friendship can find a way to ease this burden."

To Be Continued

Silvertoekee: I gave Saruman this chapter off, but he'll be back soon and we'll see some more of the devious workings of his mind! I don't want anyone to know too much about his plans and motives, but I haven't decided how much I'll let them suspect. Thanks for the review!

Tychen: Saruman's quite the operator, but he doesn't even suspect how much he's slipped. He knows his plans aren't coming to fruition, but he has such contempt for everyone else's level of competence and intelligence, that he just doesn't see the threat. As for Legolas, well, I'm afraid you'll have to wait to see!

Templa Otmena: I'm glad you knew what I meant about Legolas and Aragorn. I love those hints in the films that there's more to the friendship than we know. It makes me wonder if they did that because of the fansites that cropped up about those two! I love the bit in TTT EE when Legolas tells Aragorn he needs to get some rest. There's also that brilliant bit in the finale that should have been sooo much more than it was, but I am glad we got as much as we did. (Though I was hoping for some sort of montage with the appendices of the HobbitsSam joining Frodo, and Merry and Pip returning to GondorLegolas and Gimli sailing to ValinorOf coursethe appendices are an entire film of their own! I'm so flattered that you like the way I write their relationship! As for, and I must quote your review: "I especially liked your use of 'Estel' in contrasting Elves and Humans. You always seem to do things like that very well, you take something small and canonish but then give it this Big Picture scope thingy...made sense in my mind *grins*!" Thank you! That's my all time favorite thing to do in fanfics. It's like an obsession with me to find some small word or passing comment and turn it into something. I take notes sometimes when I read LOTR or watch the films for glimmers of ideas! Thanks so much for noticing! I'm thrilled as always with your comments and insights. I'm glad you like Galadriel. What an intimidating character to write! She and Celeborn are the only ones (at least as I've written it.) Who understand what Elrond will face when his children stay in Middle-earth. I've had people argue with me about this, but the way I read LOTR, it seems apparent the Twins stay behind. Whenever you read the book, whenever they refer to the twins it's with phrases like "the group of men including the sons of Elrond" or something like that. Men. That means that they'd made their choice and had become mortal already. At least that's how I interpret it. I'm open to other interpretations. Elrond is also a favorite of mind. I always wished there was more of him in The Hobbit and in LOTR. He's fascinating. The level of loss he must have lived throughI mean to lose his twin! YIKES! I have a twin and it's unfathomable.see I can't even continue that thought! It gives me the shivers! Then his wife is attacked and she leaves for Valinor, and then his kids all choose to live as mortals. Poor elf! You're right! I remember that. Galadriel did want Gandalf to be the head of the council. Pretty obvious really, when you consider none of the others stuck to the game plan. Radagast was probably the most benign, but he loved the animals so much he forsook the rest of Middle-earth! I knew you'd like the horse's revenge! LOL! Remember, any delay in posting this is not my fault. Technical difficulties have kept me from posting. I'm sure the people at ff.net are doing all they can, so, I'll just keep working on the next chapter! Keep reading and I'll keep writing! 

Joee1: I'm glad I could contribute so much to your hatred of Saruman! (LOL!) I don't know what's going on with ff.net, but I hope you get to read this soon!

Chloe Amethyst: Thanks! I'm really glad the suspicion came across without seeming too over the top. You've put my biggest worry to rest! Celeborn and Glorfindel are too often minor characters, and, while I have so many of them together, I am trying to give equal consideration to each of them. As for the powerlessness, again, this is something I keep worrying about. I don't want anyone to appear weak, so I keep trying to make sure that, whatever they face, they have some strength, or insight, or FAITH or HOPE somewhere that can see them through. I love your insights, though. In writing much of that, I fixated on the frustration of feeling powerless to help someone. Even though you desperately want to do something, there's nothing you can do. That feeds the frustration, powerlessness, and helplessness, and often, you're helping more than you know though you yourself wouldn't really think you're doing anything just by offering kind words, a shoulder to lean on, etc. Yes, it would have been bad for our favorite elves (To understate it!) if Saruman had gotten what he wanted.

  
Nesuli: Yes, you read the first chapter. I'm sorry it's confusing. If you have specific questions, e-mail to me and I'll explain. For the most part, I started sort of in the middle of some action, with some worrying going on as the elves all realize Aragorn is missing and they need to go and look for him. It's like rolling a snowball down a hill. Things just get bigger and more out of control as you read.

Sirithiliel, Gwyn: Thanks! FYI, the delay in updating is because I couldn't log in at ff.net. 

Elven Kitten: Yes, Elrond suspects, but he's too worried about everyone right now. Maybe later he'll connect it all! I'll post more ASAP.

Leggylover03: It will take awhile, but who knows if they're going to need to go all the way to Lothlorien? Hee! Sorry to tease, but I don't even know what my muse has in mind.

Ryuujin Dragon King: Thanks! Chocolate! That's the best! Okay, I've gotten a spurt of energy. If all goes well at ff.net, chapter 25 will be up soon. More Legolas and Aragonr to come! BTW, I believe you expressed interest in Legolas' brothers and father. There's more of all of them in my four part fic Undying Lands. 

Grumpy: The horse thing is pretty popular. Glad you like it! More on Glorfindel and Elrohir to come! 

  
Strider's Girl: I have lots more Ranger angst coming. There will be sooo much in the upcoming chapters!

  
Catherinexxix: You can call him a coot if you like. Even if you did just make me think of Crazy Cooter from Dukes of Hazzard. Hee! Thanks! You're right, it is difficult, and I'm never sure if I'm succeeding until I hear from you. You plural. Not you personallynot that I don't want to hearshutting up now. Gandalf will have some good scenes coming up so keep reading oh Gandalf Groupie!

White Wolf1: More Legolas in the next chapter. Something is on our favorite elf's mind! Of course, there will be more Saruman, too! Sorry!  
  
Alariel: Legolas is human now. The spell was meant for elves. Elrond woke first because he is half-elven. That, and seeking spiritual help from his father, as well as that secret reserve of energy that makes any parent able to do the impossible if their kids' lives hang in the balance! Elladan and Elrohir woke next because they're Elrond's sons and have some human blood. No you weren't imagining things! Elrond gets help from Eärendil. Someone else pointed out that I have all the elvish hierarchy in one place, and, militarily, that won't do. There is the fact, however, that Sauron isn't yet the problem he's going to be. Things are set in motion, but no one outside of our group really knows who has the three rings. They are powerful elves, so I don't think there's that much danger. Still, I suppose I should address that issue more than I have. Thanks.

Countrygirl: Don't worry. I love the elf, too. There's a lot of ground to cover. Don't give up on him yet!

Joslin: Thanks. I'm glad you like it. There's plenty more to come.

Jacklyn: Hi. Yes, for the purposes of my story, the Blue Wizards are less powerful than the grey. Of course, I've taken liberties here. In Tolkien's unfinished work, he wasn't sure himself what happened to the Blue Wizards. He surmised that they may have been corrupted by Sauron, had started cults that worshipped Sauron in Harad and beyond, or that they had started some resistance to Sauron. Either way, their fate was never told, which gives me a lot of room to improvise. My POTC stories (I have two.) are A Pirate's Life and Death, which is, like this LOTR story, a work in progress. I'm writing chapter 15 of that one now. The other is A Rare Gift, which is a one chapter story and is complete. You can access both from my profile page.


	25. part 25

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter. 

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 25

By Ecri

Galadriel and Celeborn spoke in earnest of all that had befallen their group. The two were greatly concerned for Elrohir and the others who were injured. Galadriel's mind turned over several thoughts over and over again. What purpose would someone have to want to separate two elves from a larger group? What could be done to remove the spell from Elrohir and Glorfindel? What could be done for Legolas? 

What answers she entertained disturbed her. Separating two elves from a larger group meant plans for capture. If the Ithryn Luin had such plans would they not have acted sooner? Would they not have worked some alternate to the spell that drew Aragorn without his knowing to leave his camp? Would they not simply have killed the other elves while they slept, leaving two alive, and taking those two with them not releasing them from the sleeping spell until the two were secured?

As for Elrohir and Glorfindel, she knew there was a way to counter the spell, but again, if it had been cast by the Ithryn Luin and as sloppily and hastily as she sensed it had been, would its grip not have loosened with the death of both Blue Wizards? Would it not at least have weakened when Alatar was distracted by his own fight for survival?

  
Her eyes sought the Greenleaf who spoke in hushed tones to Estel. She did not listen to their words, but she knew he was haunted by something. She knew Estel wished only to help him. Could they help him? She could not recall any instance where an elf had become mortal aside from those who consciously made such a choice, and those were few, for the choice was available only to the half-elven. What sort of spell, what sort of magic, would do this? How had this perhaps most elvish of elves been stripped of the very essence of himself?

She felt an overwhelming urge to help the young prince, for it was obvious to her that he would be better able to deal with his physical injuries if he once again possessed his elven abilities. She looked to her husband once more, who now waited for her to speak. "I would help Legolas."

"As would I. I wonder which is more prudent, helping him now, or waiting until we reach Lothlorien?" His eyes did not waver from hers.

"You think we should wait." She did not question him. She knew his mind almost as well as her own. They had been together too long for her to misread him now. It was rare for either of them to surprise the other.

"I think the pressing problem is Elrohir and Glorfindel, and I believe helping them recover might give us a chance to help Legolas on our own terms." Celeborn's eyes were no longer on his wife, and, surprised by his words despite her moments earlier conviction that he could not surprise her, Galadriel's eyes followed his gaze to fall on

  
Saruman.

"You believe the White Wizard is duplicitous?" She could not discount the thought, for it had, in truth occurred to her as well. "What do you believe he is hiding?"

Celeborn kept his silence for a moment. "I cannot say, but he is not as truthful as we would hope. I sense he is anxious about Elrohir and Glorfindel, but his anxiety seemed to worsen when he learned of Gandalf's protection spell."

"I, too, had noticed that." The Lady admitted. "The White Wizard has his secrets. Perhaps we may learn them in time." 

**

Celeborn could only hope that his wife would not misunderstand him. His concern for Legolas was strong indeed. He did believe that their best hope to cure such a malady would be in Lorien. The Golden Wood, a protected realm possessed of the magic of millenia of elves who had lived among the mallyrn, could only give them an added advantage when dealing with something so sinister as this. 

His concern for Elrohir and Glorfindel was of a different nature. He had known Glorfindel for years uncounted, and to see one of the strongest of elves so affected seemed to bode ill of their journey. Elrohir, was, of course, his grandson. The youngest child born to his dear daughter, Celebrian, Elrohir held a special place in his heart.

  
Personal feelings aside, some sense of foreboding taunted him. Though he was not the one in his family known for his possession of foresight, he felt certain that the dangers of their journey to Lothlorien would be easier handled if these two fierce warriors were able to join in their defense.

  
Aragorn and Legolas certainly could not fight in their current condition, and, though he was certain Elrond and Thranduil were formidable in battle, they were also worried fathers.

Celeborn looked Galadriel in the eyes. "My love, I sense a darkness on this path we tread."

Galadriel's eyes took on a faraway look for a moment, and, when she came back to herself, she nodded and reached for her husband's hand. "Darkness and shadow linger ahead. We must not hide the light."

  
Celeborn found her words oddly comforting, though he was not certain what light they were hiding.

**

Aragorn spoke softly to Legolas. He knew his friend was uncomfortable with the concept of nightmares, since elven dreams were vastly different than human ones. Indeed, Legolas had confessed to him in Rivendell over the long winter that, aside from hearing Iluvatar's song, elven dreams were what he missed most. There was no method Aragorn knew of that might prevent nightmares, for if there were he himself would never suffer them. 

Aside from the fact that he had dreamed all his life, Aragorn was no expert on the subject of human dreams. Of all those present, he alone had experience that could help Legolas deal with this, but if Legolas did not at least describe his dreams there was naught he could do.

"Legolas," he tried again, "can you not at least tell me what frightened you enough that you were compelled to call my name."

Legolas looked away, but Aragorn moved, slowly and stiffly, into his line of sight. Curbing his frustration, Aragorn spoke to his friend. "_Mellonin,_ pleaselet me help you!"

He watched as Legolas took in a shaky breath. "I am sorry, Estel." He seemed about to speak, but could not. Shaking his head in a move so vehement it bordered on violent, Legolas, by contrast, spoke softly. "I cannot! I cannot speak of it."

Aragorn's concern doubled. Legolas had dreamed in Rivendell of his father's death, and it had taken a great deal of persuasion for the Ranger to explain to his friend that it was a vision born of concern and fear rather than one of foresight and predestination. What might he have dreamed that would seem worse than his father's death? 

He sighed as he settled himself in front of his friend. "Legolas, let me help you. Speak to me of your dreams, for that is the only way to rob them of their power. We have spoken of this before.

It took some doing, but Legolas slowly, almost painfully, described what he had seen. Aragorn did not wonder that such images had scared his normally unflappable friend. That he had witnessed the bloody gruesome deaths of those he held dear would be enough to waken anyone. That he had seen them done by his own hand–under the control of Alatar to be sure–was traumatic at best.

"Legolas, my friend, it is not strange that such images would haunt your dreams. These were real fears, but they have no weight. These are no more foresight than were your dreams in Rivendell." Aragorn reached for Legolas' hand, surprised by how cold it was and at the almost too tight grip his friend used.

Legolas nodded, though he did not raise his eyes to seek Aragorn's. "I understand that, mellonin, I do, but that does not ease the pounding of my heart."

  
"I know. It is fear that holds you, and fear does not know reason. It is also most at home in the dreams of mortals." He gripped Legolas' hand tighter, and the prince finally looked him in the eye. "You are not alone, Legolas. Whatever will come, we face it together."

  
For a moment, it seemed Leoglas would accept his words, but then fear and sorrow once again took hold in those crystal blue eyes, and anguish one hundred times stronger seemed to take control. "Ai! I would believe you, mellonin, but I cannot! If Eru can only forgive me" He stopped then, the thought trailing.

Aragorn frowned, his brows knitting together in unconscious imitation of his elvish father. "I do not understand. Legolas, what do you mean?"

Again, Legolas looked away, unable or unwilling to meet his friend's gaze. His voice when he spoke was a whisper so quiet, so laden with sorrow, that Aragorn's heart broke to hear it. 

"I have done the most grievous of things. It was only in the dreamsin the nightmares that the full measure of my deeds was made clear to methat I realized" 

Legolas broke off the words, the distress in his voice choking off what else he would say, though, with his eyes downcast, his face was passive and still. When he did look up at his friend, it wasn't torment, grief, or even fright that Aragorn saw in his eyes.

It was acceptance and unshakable faith that he was rightthat his actions, whatever they were, could neither be interpreted any other way, nor explained away with compassionate words and soothing tones. "If there had been any chance that Blessed Eru would hear my prayers and grant me my elvish life once again, I have spent it." 

He did not sob or weep, indeed once the initial violent frustration of it was gone, Legolas seemed oddly calm. He looked Aragorn in the eye. "I do not regret it, my friend. I would make the same choice again, but it will take me some time to accept what I have done. I cannot speak of it." 

Aragorn nodded, not really understanding. "Is there someone else to whom you might speak of this thing?" The Ranger wanted only the best for his friend. If there were someone else who might help, he was not too proud to stand aside. "Your brotheryour father"

Legolas smiled. "Nay, my friend, I do not think I could speak of this to them."

"_My_ brothers? _My_ father?" Aragorn was about to make another suggestion when he realized that Legolas was looking at someone over his shoulder.

"I may have been wrong, my friend. There is someone." Legolas whispered.

Aragorn followed the Prince's gaze, and seeing the Wizard standing behind him, smiled.

**

Saruman felt his control slipping. He could not believe the turn of events. He needed to remove the spell from Elrond's second son and that cursed Balrog slayer so he could return to Orthanc. Perhaps he should consider removing the protection spell himself.

It would take some preparation, and no small amount of time, and that was the trouble. These elves hovered around the pair as flies upon spoiled meat! Elrohir and Glorfindel were ever in the company of some maddening elf offering platitudes of comfort and theories on their affliction. Saruman sneered. As if these foolish creatures could decipher such things! 

The White Wizard glanced again to Elrohir and Glorfindel who had once again found each other's company. There was little he could do with Gandalf's protection spell in place, but he would speak to the two. Perhaps he could persuade them that they no longer needed protection. If they asked Gandalf to remove the spell, it was likely the Grey Fool would do so. Mithrandir had long held the belief that to cast a spell on a soul without leave was unethical. Saruman scoffed at the idea, as he did many of Gandalf's absurd notions.

His decision made, Saruman moved to Elrohir and Glorfindel. A few well placed questions and they were sharing with him how well they felt.

"Then perhaps the spell has loosened its hold." Saruman mused as though to himself though his words were directed to the elves. "I might be able to tell if Gandalf removed that protection spell of his." He glanced around as though looking for Gandalf and spotted him standing not too far from Legolas and Estel. "Removing the protection spell here would certainly cause no danger. We have left that cavern far behind us, and with two wizards here, you could hardly be in safer hands."

Glordfindel nodded, seeming to consider it, but then stopped himself. "Nay, Saruman. I would not ask anything of Gandalf just now, or of Lord Elrond, Lord Celeborn, or the Lady Galadriel. Legolas and Estel are our present concern. Elrohir and I are well enough with Gandalf's protection." He turned to Saruman, a smile on his face. "I thank you for your help, but we are willing to wait. Perhaps in Lothlorien."

  
Saruman returned the smile, and mumbled words of acquiescence, though he was not pleased with this turn of events. His own powers were muddled from his lack of rest. It had been many long years since he had slept out of doors, and the painful bite on his shoulder had not made the experience any easier. If he had gotten proper rest, Glorfindel would have jumped from a cliff if he had suggested it. 

He would have to persuade Gandalf and the other elves to remove the spell. He would bide his time. That was a talent he had long cultivated. 

**

Gandalf watched Aragorn turn and stare at him, and was reassured by the smile that then appeared on the human's face. Aragorn motioned for him to join them, and the Grey Wizard lost no time.

"You need rest, Legolas. You should not fight sleep." He looked Legolas in the eye. "You least of all. Your injuries have taken a toll."

"Mithrandir"

  
Gandalf's concern edged up a notch as he heard the tone in Legolas' voice, some worries still held him, likely keeping him from rest. The Wizard frowned and examined the youth more closely. A tear-stained face, thought now passive and still, a firm grip on his friend's hand, and a slight tremble to his lithe frame all painted a picture he would see erased. Certainly Legolas would find no rest if Gandalf could not ease his troubled heart.

The Grey Wizard looked to Aragorn. The Ranger shrugged. "He will tell me naught of his dreams, but I think he might tell you."

Gandalf turned back to the Prince. "Tell me, my young Prince." When Legolas did not answer, Gandalf prodded him in his own tongue. "_Man le trasta, Legolas? _(What troubles you, Legolas?)

Legolas seemed to want to talk, but Gandalf sensed the words would not come easily. After all he had been through, Gandalf could hardly blame him. 

  
The Wizard looked to Aragorn who seemed to sense what was going on as well as he did. "If you can help him, please do." The Ranger looked to Legolas. "I will leave if it would be easier on you."

Legolas still hesitated, though his grip on Aragorn's hand did not loosen thus forcing the Ranger to remain by his friend's side. Gandalf took hold of the opportunity and spoke again. "What troubles you, my Prince?" When Legolas did not reply, Gandalf changed tactics. "Then I will take this chance to ask you to forgive me, Legolas, for abandoning you when I fought Alatar."

Legolas' surprise could not have been more complete. "Forgive you? _Ú-moe edaved, Mithrandir! _ Your protection gave me strength. When you released me, it made it possible for us both to strike out atat him." (There is nothing to forgive.)

At least he was talking, Gandalf thought. Perhaps there was a way to get him to talk of what tormented his heart. "Why did you do it, Legolas? Why did you strike at yourself?"

There was such a long pause before the reply that Gandalf wondered for a moment if Legolas would answer at all. "I sought to make myself an unsuitable host for his spirit. I knew you would strike at him soon, but that you would do nothing to harm me. I was afraid if I did nothing, he would find a way to burrow deep into my mind where we could not sense him. I could not be sure that he would be gone if I did nothing. I would never again trust that my thoughts were my own!" He shuddered at the thought. "I was afraid that he would influence me for all of my Immortal yearsif ever I regain myself, that is." 

Whatever Legolas was thinking now, he shook it off and instead explained himself. "He would notor perhaps could nottake Aragorn's body. He taunted me with that. He tried to enter Aragorn first, but because he was dying, he could not take control. I was nearby" Desperation that he be understood was plain in Legolas' tone. "I tried to keep him within meI tried to keep him occupied. His taunts meant he was not searching for another to torment! I tried to time my blow hoping I would strike at the instant you did."

Gandalf considered these words. Alatar had tried to take Aragorn, but could not. He had taken Legolas because of some physical proximityand then he remembered. Alatar had hinted that he might take someone elseperhaps Elrondif they killed Legolas' body. Leoglas seemed not to care that his body might be killed, for he tried to do that himself. Nay, his concern had been that his death would be for naught if Alatar were allowed to start again in some other host body. He had not merely lashed out at himself in desperation. That was too simple a thing, Gandalf saw, for so cunning a mind. 

The Wizard laughed. "You timed it so that he would be struck both spirit and body at the same moment. You amaze me, Legolas. How you could think of such a thing at such a timebut that is my question, is it not? This is _not_ what troubles you. Tell me, Legolas. Let me share your burden."

Legolas spoke haltingly. "Alatar and Pallandothey were Istari"

"Yes" Gandalf prompted him.

"I killed them."

Ah! Gandalf saw at once where the youngster's mind would go. Maiar held a particular place in the lore of the elves, and Legolas felt he had done some unspeakable wrong by sending them to Mandos. "Legolas, you did no wrong. Killing one of my order when that one has turned away from the task appointed by Eru cannot be considered in any but a good light. You should remember also, that you only _helped_ kill Alatar. You did not do that on your own. Indeed, you almost killed yourself!"

Legolas nodded, but he appeared not to believe the words.

Gandalf reached forward and took the young prince's hand in his old one. "Legolas, look at me." When the elf raised his eyes to meet Gandalf's, the Wizard continued. "That Alatar and Pallando embraced the lies of Sauron was their downfall. You did what needed to be done." 

Legolas would not be consoled. "Surely, there is some special torment for those who would take the life of one of Eru's own! We call ourselves the Firstborn, but we are not the beings he first created! The Ainurthe Valarto kill the Maiar sent to shepherd Middle-earth" He broke off the words and his eyes betrayed that, though silent, he now tormented himself more than Alatar ever could.

Gandalf sighed. This despair was almost complete. The young one believed himself to have crossed some line. No longer did he see Alatar and Pallando as enemies that had to be stopped. Now, he saw them as favored beings whose deaths Eru could not allow. Gandalf knew he had to tread carefully. "You killed a Maia, yes, but you killed one that had gone astray, and you did not kill wantonly. You killed because you had no choice. Eru will not curse you for that. Besides which, my young Legolas, you know quite well that Eru does not work like that. Iluvatar has seen all. He knows what you have done, but he knows you were meant to do it. You saved your friend. You may have well saved someone else from suffering such a fate as you described–being controlled unwittingly by Alatar's spirit."

  
Gandalf saw that his words were having some effect, but not as strongly as he might have wished. He frowned. Legolas, it seemed, was indeed deeply troubled by what he saw as a fatal error. He did not think he could be forgiven for having killed Pallando with his bow or for having had some part in Alatar's death. Gandalf wondered if Alatar's presence or his torment had caused this. Had the Blue Wizard somehow planted this seed of doubt? Had he taunted the elf once too often with the misnomer _not-elf_ and insisted he had lost all favor with Eru in an effort to send the Prince deep into despair? It was possible certainly, and, as Gandalf sought to soothe Legolas, he realized the Prince was not as healed as perhaps they had assumed. Surely they had accepted his physical injuries and his limitations, but Gandalf now realized they had been too quick to forget that Legolas had suffered more than physical injury. 

He turned a practiced eye to the Ranger, who watched anxiously as Gandalf and Legolas spoke in silence. That man held within him as much a battered spirit as Legolas. 

  
Gandalf knew he would need to see to such things soon, but for now turned his attention back to Legolas. "Legolas, I sense you do not regret your actions, only the possibility of being forsaken by Eru."

"I do not regret it. Estel would be dead–or worse–if the Ithryn Luin had not been stopped. I did no wrong and would do the same again." Legolas' conviction was obvious. His eyes glinted with a hard defiance for any who might find fault in his words, and his head tilted slightly so that his chin came up and the line of his mouth was set firm. He looked almost ready to leap up and kill the _next_ Maia who attempted to harm the friend at his side.

The Grey Wizard smiled. "My dear Prince, do you not see the error in your own logic? If it was not wrong, how can you be punished for it?" He sensed the confusion in the young one's mind as he puzzled over that. "Tell me what happened when Alatar left you."

Legolas explained the feelings he'd had and Gandalf again wondered at his strength and his faith. He had vowed to help Aragorn, and he would not forsake that vow. He had suffered torment of a most personal nature and yet he would do so again if faced with the same situation with full knowledge that that same torment awaited him.

When Legolas paused, Aragorn took the silence of both his friends as permission for him to speak. "Legolas, you saved me, Elrond, yourself, and likely Gandalf, and the others who entered the cavern! Alatar would have used them!"

Legolas turned sad eyes to his friend. "I know. That is why I do not regret it. It is justI have only begun to believe I shall never hear Iluvatar's song again. That is all I wish for myself, and it is a hard wish to abandon. I will stand by you, Estel, as I stand by what I did. I only wish the cost had not been so dear."

  
Gandalf sighed. He was getting nowhere. He still wanted to speak to Aragorn about his own troubles, and Legolas, it seemed, would accept no words of comfort. 

**

Saruman had tried what he could with Glorfindel. Perhaps it was Gandalf's protection spell that caused his words to have little effect. Perhaps he would need to speak to Gandalf. He had been fairly adept at bending the Grey Wizard to his will in the past. This should prove no different.

He reached his horse and rummaged through his saddlebags for a book he kept with him, one whose blank pages he'd filled with spells and thoughts of his own. He glanced around to be certain none would see him, then he moved swiftly, almost silently, into the bushes. Moving around to a spot where he could observe Glorfindel and Elrohir unobserved, he paged through the book as he kept half his attention upon the pair.

He lost himself for a moment in the darkness of his own thoughts, wondering which spell would most avail him here, which words would gain the most reward for the least effort.

  
So lost was he, that he failed to notice one elf who had circled around behind him and even now watched him as a spider watched its prey.

**

Haldir had taken more time than necessary in setting up their perimeter guard, and had then decided to take watch himself. The stop was not meant to be long, but the discomfort of Legolas and Estel could not be discounted. The two were in sore need of respite from the pace, slow though it was, that the company had kept.

The March Warden of Lorien had suggested to Elrohir and Glorfindel that they save themselves for a night watch, though he would prefer to spare them that as well. Both seemed well now under the protection of Mithrandir's magic, but Haldir would prefer to save them the stress of guard duty if it might keep them sharp in case of attack.

Haldir had been surprised to hear Mirkwood's young prince cry out in his sleep, for never had he known that mortal dreams could drive one from sleep. It seemed hardly practical that a body under dire stress and fatigue would be the most susceptible to such a disturbance, but Elladan had assured him it was so. Even with the elder twin's assurance, however, Haldir would have found it hard to believe had Legolas not cried out. Elladan might be counted upon to stretch the truth if he felt there was some humorous benefit in such exaggeration.

He looked to his sentries pleased that each was alert, though he could expect little else from such seasoned warriors. He peered back at the camp then, and, as was his wont, took a head count of those within the circle of protection his sentries offered. 

He frowned when he came up one short. Immediately realizing that the White Wizard had gone astray, he scanned the group for some sign. Elven sight was too sharp to miss a figure clad all in white in the midst of those more somberly robed, so Haldir had to presume the Wizard had stepped away. Calls of nature aside, such a thing was unwise this far from the protection of either Lothlorien or Rivendell. Orcs had been known to wander in these woods, though not as freely as they did through Mirkwood.

Haldir signaled to his companions and one rose immediately to take his position so that he might search for the Wizard. Slipping soundlessly through the underbrush, Haldir found a suitable tree, and placed a hand upon its trunk asking permission to use its limbs to hide his search. Smiling and offering his own gratitude at the answer he received, Haldir leaped into the limbs and was gone.

He'd traveled from tree to tree, circling the camp. Reaching the far side from where he'd been standing, he finally caught sight of the White Wizard. He was shrouded by bush and plant scanning the pages of a book, which, even from this distance, Haldir could see contained the writing of some foreign tongue.

The elf did not reveal himself, but instead kept hidden among the branches. An overwhelming disquiet had settled upon him and he felt it wise to watch and wait.

Saruman mumbled to himself, but Haldir could pick out a few of the words. He distinctly heard the White Wizard mention Glordindel and Elrohir. Perhaps he was working on some way to help the two. Haldir did not know why the thought seemed not to sit well. It was like a lie. Remembering his dislike for Saruman, Haldir tried to brush off his ill ease as related to his own prejudice. For some reason, this seemed only to worsen his discomfiture. 

Through narrowed, suspicious eyes, the elf warrior watched the White Wizard. Straining his elven ears to hear each mumbled word, Haldir pieced together some of what the Istar said. For a moment, he sat back in the supporting tree limb, stunned by what he thought he had heard. Removal of a spell he had castthat could only mean that Saruman had cast the spell upon Glorfindel and Elrohir. The White Wizard meant to betray them somehow. Unwilling to believe this, he shook his head certain he, who had never done so in his life, had misheard the words. 

He whispered a plea to Iluvatar for clearer understanding of what he surveyed, and again, he listened.

  
The Wizard flipped several pages in his book and finally landed upon a page containing writing his elven watcher could understand. Carefully written words in a tidy hand made mention of a sundering spell, a way to separate elf from all things elvish. A page later, the same script, though having acquired an untidiness born of haste, detailed a spell meant to weaken a warrior's skill long enough that he might fall away from those with whom he fought. Sundering of an elvish nature? Was that not what had happened to Legolas? Weakened skill to separate warriors.Elrohir and Glorfindel! 

This new knowledge was more than he could bear! The White Wizard was their enemy! Their betrayer! Whether he worked for the Enemy himself, or for his own ends, Saruman could not be trusted! Needing to see no more, Haldir prepared his bow, nocked an arrow and leaped down to stand before the startled Wizard.

"You will undo that which you have done, Wizard, or you will meet an end as did your Ithryn Luin." Haldir did not blink or twitch, or glance away. His arrow was pointed at Saruman's heart, and, at a distance of no more than a few inches, the force with which the March Warden pulled taught his string would likely send the arrow straight through the Istar.

**

Saruman did not speak as the elf leaped before him. He cursed himself for his inattention, but the matter was far from out of his control. He had been prepared to remove the spell from the two elves at any rate. He would do so, and then he would cast some spell of forgetfulness and this March Warden would be no problem. Saruman briefly wondered if he should kill the elf outright, but was sure this would raise too much suspicion.

He was about to speak, when Haldir cut him off. "Nay! Do not speak! You remove the spell some other way. I have heard tell that your words are poison and can turn the heart of those who hear them. You will cure Elrohir and Glorfindel now, then we will see to undoing what you did to Legolas."

  
Saruman was surprised by these words. How had this elf learned that he had been the one to cast the spell upon that irritating Wood Elf? His eyes fell on the book he still clutched in his hand, and he realized then that the creature had to have been watching him. Impertinent! He would see to it that this elf would regret what he had learned one day!

He gestured to Elrohir and Glorfindel who stood nearby. He could not cast his spell without his voice. His voice was imbued with his power. How to make the elf understand something incomprehensible for his tiny brain was quite the conundrum. Saruman gestured to the pair of elves, then to his mouth then helplessly shrugged.

To his amazement, the elf understood.

"Go on then. Cure them." 

  
Saruman was amazed at the stamina of the creature. Haldir had not twitched a single muscle involuntarily. He stood immobile his arrow tip inches from Saruman's heart and seemed untroubled by this in any sense. 

He was not one to lose an advantage, however, and he saw this as one. He had been about to do just what the elf suggested at any rate, so doing it now, with an arrow pointed at his chest was no hardship. He mumbled the spell he had written that would rescind the protection spell. Then, with no magical barriers to hinder him, he spoke the spell that would end his own failed spell. At the end of that one, without pausing for breath lest his captor understand what he was doing, he spoke a spell that had immediate affects. 

No sooner had the words left his mouth, then the impertinent elf before him blinked rapidly. Then his balance seemed to give as he swayed slightly. Clinging stubbornly to consciousness, the elf was soon forced to give way. The bow and arrow fell from his hands, and he soon followed landing in a heap at Saruman's feet.

To Be Continued

Catherinexxix: I'm glad you liked Haldir. I felt I was neglecting him. I never thought humor was my strong suit, but I'm glad you liked that exchange between Elrond and Aragorn. I keep trying to lighten the mood a bit. Things seem to be a bit somber in this fic. Thanks for your review.

  
Deana: Thanks. Yes, the nightmares are not fun for Legolas. He's not sure how to handle it. Thanks for your review.

Joee1: I know what you mean. I want him to be better, too. IT's up to the muse, however. Thanks for your review.

Jopru: Thanks for the review. More soon, I promise.

Gwyn: You really made me laugh with that comment, but I will do as you ask and pretend it wasn't a contradictory statement. I will post more soon. Thanks for your review.

Elven Kitten, mystical, Sirithiliel, grumpy, leggylover03, Ryuujin Dragon King: Thanks for reviewing. More soon, I promise.

Jadesaber: I honestly am not sure what Saruman will do. Of all the characters, he's the hardest for me to plot out ahead of time. I do know he's not done, yet, though I keep thinking I am going to send him back to Isengard. Thanks for your review.

  
Strider's Girl: Yes, there are a lot of unanswered questions here. I'm not sure how much longer it will be, but I think it may be winding down. Of course, I originally thought this would only be about 10 or so chapters. Thanks for your review.

  
Silvertoekee: I'm glad you liked Haldir and the bit about the nightmares. More to come. Thanks for the review.

  
Templa Otmena: Eeek! Sorry! Don't fail your exams for me. The fic will be here waiting for you when you've passed all of them, and if Fanfiction.net is down, I'll e-mail it to you so you don't have to wait. Okay? I'm glad you like my POTC fic. I'm going right back to a half-finished chapter for that when I've posted this one. Although, I have to say, I don't know how much sense the last chapter would make if you haven't read the ones that came before it. Brave soul! You've set my mind at ease as far as this fic goes. I was hoping I wasn't losing the tension with the transitions to other POVs or to the flashback. Thanks! You're right about Legolas' pride being evident in the books and the films. His refusal to be blindfolded outside of Lothlorien in the books is just one example. I am trying to make it a difficult thing, especially for Legolas, family to accept that they cannot help Legolas as much as Aragorn can in this situation, but I want it to be clear that they are willing to step aside if it is in Legolas' best interest. Even in this chapter, Aragorn is willing to step aside if Gandalf can offer some help that he cannot. I didn't mean for it to be an Evil Cliffie, and I hope I've made up for it by making this chapter slightly longer. Of course, this one probably qualifies as an Evil Cliffie, too. I'll direct that pleading look concerning the elf'stoward my muse! The Final Tally scene in the films was certainly humorous, but I prefer the way it was done in the books. I am definitely looking forward to November and those extra scenes in the Extended DVD. Some part of me hopes they'll make it five or six hours long, but I know it will likely be only four or a bit over four. Elrond's predicament has always fascinated me, and I just loved how Hugo Weaving portrayed him. I'd have preferred a bit more of him, and, truthfully, a bit more of Arwen, and at least a glimpse of Elladan and Elrohir. I'm glad you liked the way I've portrayed Elrond's and Aragorn's relationship. Saruman's not gone yet, though I don't know if he's going all the way to Lothlorien or not. As for Haldir, that was fun! Another elf I really love! Thanks so much for your wonderful review, and for your kind praise. I'm glad you find my ideas profound. That's flattering and certainly encouraging. Once this story is finished, BTW, I have another LONG one in the works. Thanks again!

White Wolf1: Thanks. Haldir's quiet observations really came from the idea that often elves are silent observers. Often, that's what Legolas was in the movies as well as the books. There's a lot of wisdom in their silence, though. Legolas opened up, but the issue isn't quite settled. Yeah, I was one of the ones who was hoping Legolas would open up to Aragorn in your story. I'm so glad he did! Thanks for your review.

Tychen: Legolas is haunted and only a few more chapters will tell if he can deal with it. Haldir went with his instincts, but I guess you didn't have this in mind, did you? Thanks for your review.

  
Chloe Amethyst: Thank you so much. I'm always so excited when someone feels that strongly about one of my chapters. That's exactly what I was trying to do with Haldir. His silent observations, his unspoken mistrust, and his perspective from a slightly removed position gave him time to piece things together as the others, embroiled in their concern for the wounded, could not have done. I am glad Elrond's concern for Legolas came through in that flashback. I hoped it would. I've always admired Elrond, and I do so enjoy the idea that Elrond became a second father to Mirkwood's Prince because Legolas and Aragorn were close. That, and the fact that he does know more than the average elf about human dreaming were what dictated his actions as I saw them in that scene. More soon. Thanks for your review.


	26. part 26

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter. 

Please forgive the delay. Blame it on Saruman. He was trying to get me to write this chapter quite differently, but in the end, my original vision finally prevailed!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

****

Encroaching Darkness Part 26

By Ecri

Elrohir stood beside his brother, his anxious eyes on the trio of Gandalf, Legolas, and Estel huddled together across the camp and whispering urgently on each other. He turned to his twin. Elladan stood beside him on his right and Glorfindel on his left. "Do you suppose they are well?"

Elladan nodded. "If Estel needed help, he would not hesitate to call for someone."

Glorfindel smiled. "That is true, and your Ada would be the one he would call."

Elrohir returned the smile. "Yes, Estel has never been shy about asking Ada to help Legolas. It is when he himself needs the attention of a healer that he develops a strange inability to speak!"

The trio laughed together, each picturing some moment in the past when either Ranger or Prince had been injured. Elrohir was about to speak again, when a wave of dizziness hit him. He reached instinctively to Elladan and clung to his twin in a fierce grip.

  
Elladan panicked. "Elrohir!"

Elrohir was about to say he was well, when he heard his twin call Glorfindel's name. The younger twin looked to his left and saw his father's friend with a hand placed firmly to his head, his body swaying slightly as though he, too, were racked with dizziness.

He looked to his right again, expecting to see his brother, but instead looked into the concerned face of his father. "Ada" 

  
Elrond eased him to the ground as Celeborn did the same for Glorfindel. Elrohir submitted to his father's examination knowing there was no way to stop it though he was feeling better by the minute. He glanced to Glorfindel as Elrond moved on to his friend, checking him in much the same way as he had his son.

Elrohir moved to sit up, though his brother's hands held him firm. Elrohir turned to Elladan about to admonish him for his overprotective streak, but Elladan merely shook his head and gestured to Lady Galadriel. Their grandmother stood just above himself and Glorfindel, her eyes shut and her hands slightly outstretched. 

Assuming his grandmother was seeking some connection to the dizziness he and Glorfindel had experienced and the odd affliction that had hit them earlier, he kept quiet and still. In another moment, Galadriel opened her eyes, confusion apparent. Her eyes locked on Elrohir's however, and she knelt by his side for a moment, smiled and brushed his cheek tenderly.

Then she rose and gestured for Elrond to follow her. She spoke with him and with Celeborn, but no other could hear what they said. Elrohir glanced at Glorfindel who seemed as upset as he was to be excluded from the conversation, but neither of them would question the Lords and Lady.

**

Elrond moved to Galadriel's side. "They both seem well. What have you discovered?"

  
Galadriel thought for a moment then shook her head. I cannot offer reasons, but both Gandalf's spell and the other are gone."

"Gone?" Celeborn frowned. "Is it possible for them to disappear?"

"Nay, it should not be. Gandalf's spell at least would have had to be removed. They both seem well." She turned to Elrond. "I must assume there is no physical injury."

"There is none. They are well." He looked to Gandalf who still sat with Legolas and Estel. "We should ask Mithrandir to check them."

Galadriel nodded. None suggested Saruman would do as well as Gandalf, and none thought to question their disregard of the White Wizard.

Elrond glanced toward Gandalf who still seemed to be speaking to Legolas and Estel. No, now that he looked more closely, Legolas' eyes were closed. Ranger and Wizard had gotten him to sleep. That was well, since the prince was in desperate need of rest. He rose and made his way to Gandalf's side. "Mithrandir, the spells on Elrohir and Glorfindel have been removed. Will you see what magic you sense?"

  
Gandalf looked up at Elrond sharply, and the Elf Lord knew the announcement had startled his long time friend. As Gandalf rose and headed to the fallen elves, Elrond looked at his youngest son. "Estel, stay with Legolas in case he wakens again."

  
Aragorn nodded, but was soon joined by both Thranduil and Aglarelen. Neither would stray far from the prince's side, Elrond knew, and for now, that was certainly for the best.

By the time Elrond returned to the others, Gandalf was conversing with Galadriel. "You are right, Lady, they have no taint of magic upon them. How my spell could have been so easily removed will trouble me."

The Grey Wizard spoke softly to Glorfindel first. "You are feeling well?"

"I am. I feel as though some veil or fog has lifted. I am quite myself." Glorfindel spoke with the quiet assurance of an ancient elf.

The Wizard turned to Elrohir. "What of you, Elrohir? Are you well?"

  
Elrohir nodded. "I could hardly claim falsely with brother and father by my side, Gandalf. I am certainly feeling more myself than I have in some time."

Gandalf nodded and looked to Elrond. "We may never be satisfied with this solution, but we must surely accept that they are well. I will speak to Saruman later and see if he has any notion how such a thing was done, but I fear there are few clues. We may have to accept the mystery."

Elrond did not like to agree with such words, but had little choice. "I would prefer knowing we had cured them ourselves. I have never easily accepted happenstance." He knelt before his son and his friend, placing a hand on one cheek of each. His eyes sought deep into theirs and with a smile and a nod, he finally accepted it. "You would appear to be correct. They are well."

**

Haldir blinked as he heard someone call to him. A familiar voice said his name seeking, it seemed, reassurance that he was well. He was standing before Saruman, who held his arm in some concern. "There we are." Saruman said as Haldir focused on the White Wizard. "You seemed to lose focus. You seemed not yourself. Are you well?" He said the words in an odd tone, emphasizing syllables in a seemingly random way.

Haldir nodded unsure of himself but unwilling to admit it to one whom he did not entirely trust. "I am well." He felt his brows knit together as he tried to recall something that now seemed well out of his reach. "II must finish checking the perimeter." He blinked again, and with a nod from Saruman, retreated to do as he'd said. 

He walked slowly, his attention wandering to the perimeter as his mind sought to force some normalcy upon this odd situation. He felt as though something important had happened, but he could not place it. Whatever it was, it had something to do with Saruman. Haldir recalled his dislike for the Wizard, but it seemed somehow more intense than he remembered. He had an aversion to the Wizard that he could not explain. Certainly he had never liked Saruman, nor had he ever completely trusted the White Wizard, but he now felt an urge to be as far from the Istar as he could manage. 

  
Walking the perimeter of the camp, he forced his mind to concentrate on what hidden dangers might threaten their company. He did not know why this forced his attention back to Saruman, but he shook off the feeling as well as he could and scouted the area. He would not allow himself to be distracted again.

He took his position, signaling to those under his command. One signed back asking permission to approach him, which he immediately granted wondering if perhaps some distant threat–orcs, wargs, wolves–might be drawing near.

"What is it Tauron?" Haldir looked into the other archer's eyes, surprised to see a bit of puzzles concern on the familiar features.

"Are you well? You left to patrol the perimeter some time ago. What has delayed your return?" Tauron had known Haldir for many hundreds of years, so Haldir understood the concern, but surely his friend exaggerated. He could not have been gone so long. 

"I am well. I" He paused remembering Saruman and how he had felt awaking in the White Wizard's presence. Awakingas though from sleepor from "Tell me, mellonin, what would you say if I told you the White Wizard has given me cause to believe he is less than truthful with us?"

Tauron laughed–a light and nearly silent sound. "I would say will you also tell me it is likely that it will rain when the sky darkens? He is Ithron! Maia! He keeps his own counsel and even when he offers it to others it is oft times cryptic beyond understanding!"

Haldir knew this, and, in an uncharacteristic display of impatience, he waved his friend's words away. "I know the nature of Wizards, my friend." He looked Tauron in the eye. "But I also know the nature of traitors."

Tauron seemed surprised by his words, but Haldir saw a light in his eyes. The dawning of realization, or the sudden recognition of familiar things seen in a different light, Haldir could not say what it was, but he knew between the two of them, they could keep an eye on the troublesome Saruman.

**

Thranduil watched from a short distance away as Gandalf and Aragorn spoke to Legolas. Some part of the Elvenking would have preferred cradling his son in his own arms and returning to Mirkwood never to allow the younger elf to leave its boundaries again. He knew such a fate was unworthy of his son's time, but the heart of a father desired little beyond the safety of a son. He chided himself for such a thought, for he knew perfectly well that, though his son's safety was a thing he'd been consumed with since the young elf's birth, it was equally true that a father desired not only safety, but happiness for his child. Legolas was a child of Middle-earth. He loved Arda with his entire heart, mind, and soul. He would not hide away from it–not from the beauty, not from the terror, and not from those things that appeared to be both at the same time.

Thranduil glanced to Aglarelen, whose eyes did not stray from his young brother's face. He took a step closer to his eldest son, sensing that he needed comfort perhaps more than his youngest sibling. Barely had he taken the step when Aglarelen's eyes moved from his brother to his father.

Seeing the anguish in the bright, tear-filled eyes of his heir, he opened his arms even as he took another step closer. The two engulfed each other in a mutual embrace and any who observed it would have been hard pressed to say who received more solace, the father or the son.

"My son," Thranduil whispered. "He will be well. We will find a way" Thranduil was surprised when Aglarelen interrupted him. 

"Nay, Ada, for I have already spoken to the Lady Galdriel. She knows naught of this affliction that tears him from us. She cannot help!" There was a deep bitterness in the Crown Prince's words.

Thranduil pulled slightly away from his son so that he could look into Aglarelen's eyes. For a long moment, he looked as though searching for something. When he failed to find it, he clutched Aglarelen to his chest once more. "My son, do not give up all hope. Eru will not abandon your brother!"

"Eru _allowed_ this"

  
Thranduil stopped his son, anger plain upon his face. "You will not speak so! Eru has blessed all Middle-earth, and He cannot be blamed for the things done to spread discord in his song! It is Morgoth's influence, not Iluvatar's Will!"

Aglarelen swallowed and nodded at his father, his eyes suddenly downcast. "Forgive me, Adabut Legolas"

"Your brother will be well. We will find a way to make him well. We cannot give up"

  
Aglarelen nodded, and Thranduil offered his oldest son a sympathetic smile. "I understand your heartache. You want what I want: for Legolas to be well. He will recover. Do not underestimate our Greenleaf's strength."

The Elvenking again swept his eldest son into an embrace, and the two waited for Gandalf and Aragorn to soothe Legolas' mind and heart.

**

Aglarelen knew his father's words were meant to comfort, and though he himself had uttered those hateful words that cast the blame for this at Eru's feet, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood was well aware that such was not true. He silently begged Iluvatar's forgiveness that such words had crossed his lips and cursed himself for his weakness in questioning His Will. Legolas' dreams–nightmares, Elrond had termed them–seemed to frighten his brother as Aglarelen had never seen him frightened before.

He recalled that night in Imladris when Legolas' screams had woken him, and indeed the entire House. None had told Legolas of that, for, by unspoken agreement, they seemed to realize that such knowledge would only embarrass him.

He had raced from his room towards Legolas' only to find Elrond and all his sons in the corridor as well. Half the other elves in residence stood nearby seemingly composed though Aglarelen could not help but wonder at that. Surely someone must be attacking his brother for these screamshe cursed himself for not taking his weapon, but swore to Eru that he would cast himself between Legolas and whatever attacked him even were it to mean he would soon find himself in Mandos' Hall.

The Crown Prince could not have said what he expected to find upon opening the door, but his brother alone, sitting up in bed, eyes wide in fear, was not it. He raced to his brother's side and sat upon the bed, his eyes scanning both the room for unseen threat and his brother for unseen injury. 

"I am sorry." Legolas' whisper took Aglarelen by surprise. Sorry? What in the name of the Valar could he be apologizing for? Shaking his head, he reached to the bedside table and filled a glass with water from the pitcher there. Pressing it into his brother's shaking hands, he watched in concern as Legolas drank.

He listened in confusion at the talk of dreams and demanded to know how such could be the cause of the terror he'd heard in his brother's voice. Lord Elrond's explanation did little to assuage his worries. He spoke to the Lord of Imladris watching as he lovingly draped a blanket over his brother and kissed the younger elf comfortingly on the brow, but his surprise at being asked–though without words–to leave the room did not sit well. He glanced to his brother wanting nothing more than to be certain Legolas was well.

Legolas' assurances notwithstanding, Aglarelen was not pleased. He left the room, wincing as Elrohir pulled the door closed behind them. He turned to speak to Elrond, but the Elf Lord was addressing the assembled elves. "It is well. Estel will see to him." He saw Elrond smile then in response, it seemed, to the smiles upon the faces of the retreating elves.

"What is amusing?" Aglarelen asked Elrond in consternation.

Elrond sobered a bit as he faced Aglarelen. "They only smile because it is usually Estel who must be seen to when a scream shatters the peace in Rivendell." He put an arm out to touch Aglarelen's shoulder. "Come. I expect you have questions."

Indeed he did, and Aglarelen had kept Elrond and the twins talking about human dreams until he was certain he could deal with one if the need arose. 

Now, aware that once again, as in Imladris, Legolas turned to another for comfort, Aglarelen could not help but curse the strange malady or spell that seemed intent on sundering Legolas from all that he had known. Iluvatar's song, Legolas' family, his homewould nothing remain as it had been? He did not begrudge his brother what comfort he found with Aragorn and Gandalf, he wished only that he might be able to share the burden as well.

  
His father asked him a question then, and Aglarelen found himself explaining to Thranduil what Elrond had once explained to him.

**

Saruman sensed a dark, familiar presence and whirled around to the right. Seeing a wave of movement among the trees, he glanced to the nearest elves. All seemed occupied with some task, whether repairing arrows or bows, sharpening blades, tending horses, or standing nearby to the gathered elven Lords in case they could be of use. Surreptitiously, Saruman slipped away following the movement he'd seen.

In moments, he found the orc, hunched over slightly and peering through the brush towards the elven camp. Saruman wasted no time, and lashed out with his staff, catching the creature on the temple and sending him to the ground. The orc fumbled for his blade, but stopped and glared with obvious hatred and grudging respect up at the White Wizard.

"You fool!" Saruman said in a heated whisper slipping into the Black Speech to keep from being understood too clearly by any prying ears. "Why are you here! I told you to wait for me at Orthanc!"

The orc nodded, and gestured to the woods slightly behind him and a small band of orcs joined the two. The orc replied in the same language, but in a more cowering tone. "We come at the urging of our Dark Master."

  
Saruman glowered. He wanted no reminder that these orcs thought they served Sauron. Eventually, he would break their ties to Mordor, but until he could breed a few more generations from what few served him, he would have to tolerate the divided allegiance of the orcs who resided in Isengard. "Sauron has not contacted me! How would you know if he has some orders for you?"

The orc shuffled in apparent discomfort. "The stone ordered us to come to you. Mordor wants proof that the Blue Wizards have succeeded."

Saruman knew Sauron would require something like that. That the Dark Lord could not enter the White Wizard's own thoughts and learn what he needed meant his strength had waned once again. Sauron would need time to build enough reserve energy to contact him that way again.

Saruman did not want to tell of the Blue Wizard's failure, but nor did he desire to tell of his own recent involvement with these elves. As he pondered what course to take, a thought came to him. He could report to Sauron without being the bearer of bad news. Sauron would know he was not in Orthanc, and it was not unusual for him to leave his home in Isengard to search some text in the libraries of Gondor or to follow some clue as to the One Ring's whereabouts. He knew how to avoid Sauron and yet appear that he did naught but the Dark One's bidding.

He turned his eyes to the hapless orc who seemed to sense his life was about to take a turn for the worse. "You will journey to Mordor and tell Sauron that the Ithryn Luin have failed. I am trying to repair what damage that failure has done to his plans. Tell him I will have word for him soon." When the orc did not move, Saruman took a menacing step forward and raised his staff slightly. "Go, now! Do not keep Sauron waiting! Explain that I am not in Isengard and do not know when I will return since I will be away as long as it takes to do his bidding! Go!"

Saruman watched as the orc and his company tore through the brush and trees in their haste to escape the White Wizard's presence. He was confident that his ruse would buy him enough time away from the Dark Lord that he would be able to achieve something with which to illustrate his own loyalty. He would need to stay away from Orthanc for Sauron would notice his presence if he were too near the palantir. A small inconvenience. He would continue on with this group of elves to Lorien and from their move on to Gondor to see what he could learn from the libraries. 

He would do well, he was sure, to keep an eye on Gandalf at the moment, so it was just as well. Gandalf had become too enamored of the peoples of Middle-earth. He had forged too close a relationship with many of the races that Saruman knew where beneath the notice of a Maia. 

Hobbits, dwarves, Elves, andhe scoffed in disgust as the last race entered his mind. Men. Men were a useless race. Short lived compared to all others now that the blood of Numenor had been spent, men lacked patience, intelligence, fortitude, and foresight. They would be easy enough to dominate. Surely, if Ecthelion and Denethor were examples of the best of the race of men, Saruman would have little trouble with them. What Gandalf saw in these raced, Saruman could not imagine, but he would need to be sure Gandalf stayed distracted by his concerns.

The White Wizard had plans of his own, and he would use Gandalf's compassion against him. He would be sure that each race faced some dire need for Gandalf's advice at key moments, thereby casting the lesser Wizard's attention far from Orthanc. He considered what he'd planned for the elves. Once the Firstborn had been driven from these shores, or turned or tormented by Saruman's experiments, there would be little in all of Arda that could oppose him. He allowed himself a small smile as he considered the world as he would recreate it. 

**

Haldir and Tauron perched high in the trees above the camp. They had retreated here to discuss their disquiet at the actions and words of the White Wizard. Haldir felt an odd sense that some piece of the puzzle was missing. He should recallsomething. He cursed this unprecedented memory loss. It was not a feeling he had ever experienced before in all the millennia of his life.

"I do not know why, but the more I ponder, the more I am certain that something has happened. Saruman" He trailed the thought as he tried desperately to grasp the elusive thought. "This is maddening!"

Tauron's hand touched Haldir's arm lightly, and Haldir turned his attention in the direction of his friend's unwavering gaze. There, beneath the pair, unaware that he was being observed, was the object of their discussion. 

The elves traded concerned glances and watched as the White Wizard held conversation in the Black Speech with an orc. The Firstborn could not hear the cursed language without cringing in pain, yet Haldir tried desperately to memorize what words were spoken. He could not translate them himself, but perhaps if he could approximate the sounds or spell it phonetically, Gandalf or Elrond might be able to do it. He would not even consider speaking the Dark Tongue to the Lady of Light. 

When Saruman cast the orc off on some mission or journey, apparent from the way he pointed in a direction as the orc and his companions moved quickly to obey, Haldir again glanced at Tauron. The pair dared not speak while Saruman remained below, so, with the patience of the Firstborn, they remained motionless until the White Wizard retreated.

Only then did Haldir and Tauron leap from the cradling branches of the tree to the next and then the next, moving swiftly towards the Grey Wizard in order to put to rest their concerns over The White.

**

Gandalf had no way of helping Legolas while the prince refused to pay heed to what comfort he offered. The young elf–though elf he was no more–was lost within a torment of his own creation, certain that he had done the unpardonable.

  
Gandalf sighed, knowing he had no choice but to wait until such time as Legolas might be more open to the words he spoke. He glanced to Aragorn. The Ranger's eyes held only concern for his friend, and, while that was certainly commendable and spoke well of the man's compassion, there was also guilt in those stormy eyes. 

The wizard convinced Legolas to take a rest, promising that they would speak again later. Legolas nodded, and settled down, though Gandalf was certain sleep would be long in coming. 

He was about to turn to Aragorn when Elrond called to him. The news of the spell having been removed surprised him, and, after bidding Aragorn to stay with Legolas, he rose and walked towards the others. As he passed the waiting Thranduil and Aglarelen, Gandalf spoke to the Elvenking.

"He is troubled, but do not press him. He rests now, and he will speak of his dreams when he can." He paused, and his eyes locked on the King's holding within them the promise of a Maia and the love of a close friend. These gave his words the tone of a vow though none was formally taken. "I will help him bear this burden." He glanced back at the blond prince. "He is weary," he said, speaking so softly he might have been conversing with himself. "He is weary indeed and his heart aches with the thought of what he has done and what he has lost. The spell robs him of reason and rest." He turned back to Thranduil. "Do not press him," he warned again, "but be by his side should he wake."

Gandalf watched as father and brother moved to Legolas' side and offering only their presence if that was all Legolas could accept from them.

He moved to Elrohir's and Glrofindel's side. His examination was brief, but he could make little guess as to what had changed their conditions. 

The Grey Wizard knew Lord Elrond would not like his suggestion that they might never know what had happened to the pair of elves. He did not like it himself, and expected he would ponder it for some time.

He still had to check Aragorn, however, so while Elrond satisfied himself as to their condition, he returned to Legolas and Aragorn. "Come, Ranger. I would speak to you."

He helped a reluctant Aragorn to stand. "Do not worry, Estel. Legolas will be well." He gestured to Thranduil and Aglarelen. "His family is with him." 

Thranduil reached up then and took Aragorn's hand. "Estel, I am grateful for all that you have done for him." The King opened his mouth again as of to say more, but simply shook his head when the words would not come.

Aragorn smiled. "He is a brother to me, My King." 

  
Gandalf led Aragorn away supporting him as Thranduil stared after them. "You may be the first human ever to surprise the King of Mirkwood."

  
Aragorn smiled, but made no reply. He winced in pain as Gandalf settled him down upon the ground leaning against a tree. 

"Tell me, Estel, of what you experienced when you seemed lost to us." Gandalf hoped to find more pieces to this puzzle though he wasn't entirely sure what pieces might yet be missing.

Aragorn looked away, but turned back again almost instantly. "I recall little. It fades with each passing moment."

"Such is the way of things, but tell what you can recall, for it may be of value." Gandalf listened with his eyes closed as Aragorn spoke. The words did not surprise him. He had begun to suspect such a spell but had not known how he might break it. He sighed. It could not be that such trials could end in robbing Middle-earth of two princes who might well have saved her. 

He waited until Aragorn had finished before speaking again. "You say you came from behind this wall when you sensed Legolas in trouble."

"I did, but I do not know what trouble there was. I only wanted him to know he was not alone." Aragorn turned to sneak a glance at Legolas who seemed finally to be resting.

Gandalf watched the Ranger watch his friend. "Estel, there is more here than we know. You were the target of some plot, that much is certain." The Wizard did not soften his words with pretty phrases meant to take the sting from them. He was too busy to be mindful of that now. "What you must understand is that someone has targeted Legolas as well. His malady came well before the attack of the Blue Wizards, but it is unlikely that they are responsible for it. They were after you. Someone else did this to Legolas."

He paused pondering his next words. "This happened a long time ago, I know, but I need to know what you recall. How did Legolas lose his connection to Iluvatar's song?"

Aragorn frowned and sat in silence, brow furrowed as he tried to piece together things that had happened a long time ago. Finally he began to explain about Legolas rescuing him from orcs and all that had happened after that.

Gandalf listened, asking a question or two to clarify the details, but not offering any guesses as to how this had been done. He reached over and patted Aragorn's arm comfortingly. "I suggest you rest now, Estel. I suspect we will not be moving again before dawn, so sleep while you may. I have much to ponder."

He stood and moved aside even as Elrond approached Estel. Gandalf nodded to the Elf Lord but retreated without speaking to him. There was too much on his mind to engage in conversation now. He would seek out Saruman now to ask his advice on all that he knew. The White Wizard would have much insight, he was certain.

His thoughts were forgotten as Haldir and Tauron approached him and spoke softly. Gandalf frowned and the trio moved off together to speak more privately. This night, Gandalf thought, would be a long one.

**

Aragorn watched Gandalf as he spoke to Haldir and Tauron. When they moved away together, he wished he could follow, but even had he been able, Elrond would not have allowed it. "I am well, Ada." Aragorn whispered trying to keep his own voice from aggravating the ache in his head.

  
Elrond only raised one eyebrow and continued to drop a few herbs into the steaming water he had brought to his son.

Aragorn sighed. Undoubtedly Elrond was still treating his injuries. Not for the first time, he wished he healed as quickly as elves, only this time, the familiar wish brought with it the unfamiliar sting of regret at the selfishness of the thought. He'd dealt with human healing all his life, and yet he complained of a process he easily understood. Legolas was unable to judge his injuries in human terms as yet. He saw the surprise on his friend's face when he shifted or moved only to feel the pull of healing muscles and the pinch of stitched flesh. Legolas had not complained though he was certain it must have crossed his friend's mind that he would be better able to handle these injuries had he his old healing abilities. He also knew Legolas was in such a bad frame of mind right now that he was likely certain he deserved what pain he felt.

He sighed, and for once, did not try to brush away his father's hand as Elrond checked his injuries once again. 

"You are healing, Estel, but do not tax your strength." He offered the tea and helped Aragorn to sip. "We will move again at dawn, for the Lady is eager to bring you and Legolas to the Golden Wood."

  
Aragorn nodded. "The sight of Lothlorien should do Legolas a world of good. Heoh, Ada, how can I bear this?" He reached out a hand and held so tightly to Elrond's that his own knuckles went white. "He suffers so! Is there naught the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn can do for him?"

Elrond shook his head. "They have not given up, my son, and neither should you. The Lady feels it would be best to attempt to help him within the Golden Wood. It is a protected realm, and she will be able to shield her attempts from prying eyes."

Aragorn's heart skipped a beat. "You think we are being watched?" He glanced around, his eyes narrowing as he sought some sign he might have missed.

"We suspect it only. The guards report orcs in the vicinity, though none have attacked." Elrond's gaze shifted upwards and he seemed to stare at the moon for a moment. "We should reach Lorien within a few weeks at the pace we travel.

Aragorn opened his mouth, but Elrond reached towards him and shut it again. "Before you ask, no we will not be increasing our pace, because you are _no_t fine. Regardless of your self-diagnosis, we also travel slowly for Legolas' sake."

  
Aragorn cursed himself again for forgetting. "Adahe must be made whole!" The Dunadan looked across he camp to his friend, sleeping now and closely attended by his family. "Somehow, what he has lost must be restored."

  
Aragorn sipped the tea his father offered him, and, even as he drifted off to sleep, his mind sought some way to help his friend.

  
To Be Continued

Deana: Don't worry about Haldir. I wouldn't hurt him–too severely! Memories can always be regained. 

  
Elven Kitten: Haldir's okay, see? He's a clever elf. He'll be okay. 

Joee1: LOL! And thenthis! 

Gwyn: Yes, that's just what Saruman did to Haldir, but I don't think Haldir is going to sit still for it. Tha

White Wolf1: Haldir doesn't listen. I'm the author and I told him to take someone with him, but would he listen to me? Nooooo! Anyway, he's got a friend watching his back now. You're right. Legolas just isn't finding any comfort from Gandalf. It's going to take some time to sort through it. 

Leggylover03: Any chance? Sure! I love Aragorn Angst, too.

Grumpy: Haldir is clever, and Legolashe's going to sort through a few things eventually.

Chloe Amethyst: Yes, Legolas is dealing in absolutes right now, and has a lot to think about. Haldir seems like the best bet to get to the bottom of it all right now. 

  
Catherinexxix: What a relief! I was so afraid Galadriel and Celeborn might be getting irritating, but everyone seems to like them so far. I had to work in that bit about Galadriel being surprised by Celeborn. I thought it would be a fun little detail. Thanks! I'm glad you liked that line! I wanted Aragorn to understand what Legolas is going through, but I also want Legolas to understand that Aragorn understands. Does that make sense? I was trying to be misleading where Gandalf and Saruman were concerned. I'm glad that worked. I had many candidates who wanted to be the ones who uncovered Saruman, but Haldir's case was strongest. Ya gotta love Haldir. LOL! You'll mail me chocolate? Cool!

Tychen: Haldir's okay now, and there's plenty more to uncover! Celeborn and Galadriel have plenty more to do, and Saruman may have a few tricks up his sleevebut then so doesoops! Almost gave away too much! 

  
Sirithiliel: Poor Haldir! He knows something happened to him, but he doesn't know what! More soon, I promise!

Templa Otmena: Saruman's still full of himself, but things are unraveling for him in ways he's not even aware of. I agree wholeheartedly about the petty vendetta. I always wonder how he could sink so low and be so petty when he'd obviously lost. Then to be soundly kicked out of the Shirehee! Love those Hobbits! I'm glad you liked Haldir's thoughts on both his warriors and on dreams. I wanted it to seem he'd considered them and spoken to the Twins about them, but that they still puzzled him somewhat. Haldir seemed the perfect character for much of this. Wow! I guess I only narrowly escaped bodily harm on this one! LOL! I took care of Haldir, and there's only a tiny hint at a cliffie here! You mention in your review exactly what I was going for with these dreams of Legolas'. It's scary for him precisely because he's spent only Tolkien knows how many years controlling his own dreams and now they are cruelly wrenched from his control and the most horrifying images parade through his mind. Also, as far as his guilt over taking the life of the Blue Wizards, I was trying to show how his certainty that he has done something unforgivable is warring with his equal certainty that he did the right thing i.e. saving Aragorn's life. Poor elf/not-elf is so confused! I actually expected Legolas to be more comforted by Gandalf's words, but the muse said no. I have to go with it, and I liked the way it played between Legolas and Gandalf, so I have to bow to my muse's wisdom here. No apologies necessary! I'm thrilled to write him brilliantly! Yeah, it took me sometime to realize what had been cut from the trailer of ROTK. I have to see that scene with Eomer finding Eowyn or maybe it was Theoden, but they were right by each other so it was probably both. I keep hoping for more Aragorn and Legolas scenes, but I'll have to be patient. Yikes! A Christmas without a LOTR movie? How will we ever adjust? Yeah, Elrond giving Arwen away was very touching. I want more Elrond in the special edition, too. I would love it if every minute of footage shot would be used. For a long time I'd convinced myself that the elves on either side of Elrond at the Council were actually Elladan and Elrohir. What other elves would sit there beside him? I mean, if not Glorfindel, then it had to be Elladan and Elrohir! Of course that was before I heard Peter Jackson admit the twins weren't in the films. Bummer. Thank goodness for fanfic. I really appreciate your review. I'm glad you're enjoying the POTC fic, too! I'll start my other Long LOTR fic once this one and the POTC one are finished.

MaraJade: LOL! Saruman's horse appreciates all the attention and wants to assure everyone that he hates the Wizard, too! Thanks for the review!

MarySueREvil: Love your name! I'm glad you found the fic and I am flattered beyond words that you stayed at work so you could read it! Wow! I'm thrilled you like the relationships as I've portrayed them. Relationships like that are the main reason I dabble in fanfic. I love to explore what's already there and interpret it my own way. Thanks again. I do understand your logic. It's completely possible that Elrond's sons did sail to Valinor. As I said before, I was just always puzzled by the reference to them as men in the books. Not directly, but conspicuously by the lack of correction. Every time I think of it and of poor Celebrian waiting for her family only to be told by Elrond that their children will not come, it breaks my heart. I suppose it's possible I'll change my mind and have them change theirs, but I just don't know. Anyone out there know if Tolkien mentioned it in any of the History of Middle-earth books? I haven't quite read them all, yet. Working on it though. I'd love it if I'm wrong. See, you're right! Haldir is better! More to come about him really soon!

Mystical Panther: I got this review moments before I posted. That wasn't too long a wait, was it?


	27. part 27

See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter. 

Please forgive the delay. Once again, I blame it on Saruman. Everytime I tried to write him, I was unable to write a coherent sentence. The evil thing even sabotaged me. I have just suffered the worst case of Writer's Block in all my life. I was not only unable to write LOTR, but also POTC, and several other fandoms and my own original work! Evil White Wizard! I'm thinking of ways to take out my frustrations on the Turncoat Wizard even as you read this!

Fortunately, when the dam finally burst, I did come up with two chapters, and as a reward for your patience, I'm posting both today. That's right! Two chapters! I'm going to get right to work on the next as well. 

Fair Warning: I believe the story is winding down. (Of course, the last time I thought that was back in chapter 15 or something!)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

****

Encroaching Darkness part 27

By Ecri

Aglarelen watched his brother sleep. Legolas, eyes closed in human sleep, clutched his father's hand though Aglarelen was sure his brother wasn't aware of it. Thranduil was aware of little else. Aglarelen could tell by the way he held onto that hand, by the way he looked desperately at that face. The Crown Prince of Mirkwood had had the privilege of seeing his father fussing over each of his children. He, above all Thranduil's children, had seen more of the caring, concerned, fatherly side of the King of Mirkwood. It was not that Thranduil hid such things from his other children. It was only that Aglarelen, as the Crown Prince, was more often at the King's side assuming the duties only the heir to the throne would assume. He and Thranduil had grown close through the centuries, and Agalarelen, once he had finally come of age, had become more than Prince and Heir. He had assumed the role of confidante, advisor, and sympathetic ear–the role that had once belonged to the Queen of Mirkwood. 

Of the King's children, Aglarelen couldn't say who'd been fussed over most, only that each child had stirred a different sort of attention from his father's heart.

Whenever his sister, Lindëriel, had been hurt, whether a physical injury or haunted by some worry or fear, Thranduil would offer his strength as only a father can to a daughter. He would hold her, cradle her sometimes, though Naneth would sometimes tease Lindëriel by telling her she was too old to be held by her Adar in such a way. He would be her strength, listening to her mumbled, hurried words as she unburdened herself or soothing her physical pain by distracting her with songs or books, or long conversations about anything and nothing. 

Lindëriel had once confessed to Aglarelen that her father's arms were a haven to her. When he hugged her, she said, love and strength and peace flood her soul. 

When he himself was in need of his father's comfort, Aglarelen had noted that Thranduil would speak to him of some mysterious third party who had a problem that greatly resembled the one troubling him. Both would be aware, of course, of the woeful ruse, and before long both would be smiling at the awkward pretense as each struggled not to be the one who broke the transparent charade.

Then there was his brother Oropherin. The second son of the King was known to be prickly when troubled or injured. Unwilling to be coddled, he preferred to be left alone, but Thranduil, especially after the death of his wife and daughter would not be shut out of his children's hurts. When Oropherin would become moody or, as rarely happened, be injured in some attack or other, Thranduil would find a way to be near him. His pretense with Oropherin was to be in need of his second son's advice on some matter of state or some domestic matter for which Aglarelen could offer no suggestions. Father and son would discuss the unrelated matter in great detail, and more often than not, the true communication was nonverbal. Oropherin had once remarked to Aglarelen that he and his father were more likely to have their most revealing conversations by speaking with eyes rather than tongues.

With his third son Thranduil had adopted a much different approach. Thranduil and Tarmathalion were close in many ways, and the two shared a grim outlook especially where the coming Shadow was concerned. Aglarelen had noted that they often spoke in hushed terms as though they could only trust such concerns to themselves. Tarmathlion's hurts would require acknowledgement from his father, but more in the sense that Tarmathalion would need to work through in his mind what exactly had happened in order to move past it. In such cases, Thranduil would do the listening while his third son would piece together the events in battle that had led to his injury, or the crisis that had led to his emotional difficulty. Thranduil would offer his own insights when requested, or sometimes, even when not requested, and the two would emerge from the trial even closer.

With Legolas, however, the connection seemed different. Aglarelen had noted in the long years since his youngest brother's birth that much concerning the last Prince of Mirkwood was different. Perhaps because his mother and sister had doted on him before they had passed to Mandos' Hall, or perhaps because the family thought it necessary to protect him more completely from any future hurt, Legolas had nearly suffered a surfeit of affection. 

Legolas had seemed fragile after his mother and sister had departed Middle-earth. His tears had seemed not to stop for many years, and his cries for his mother or his pleas to hear his sister sing had become commonplace, though never had they lost their knife's edge

The best way to calm him when he was troubled was to be near him. He somehow sensed, even when lost in Elven sleep, the presence of those he loved. He reacted to such presence quickly, and even on occasions when he was grievously injured, his recovery was remarkably quick even by Elven standards if his family were close. If, however, he was troubled, if some secret worry ate away at his resolve, his peace of mind, he would often go still and silent, brooding. He'd confessed once to Aglarelen that he sought to make sense of the nonsensical, and when he could not, his heart grew heavy, his mind more troubled and he would begin at the beginning once again puzzling through the problem over and over until

Agalaren had asked him about that. Until when? What secret signal did his young brother hope to find that would settle the issue or until he could accept that he had no answers to what riddles in which he became mired? Legolas had turned away from him then, and that in itself gave Aglarelen his answer. Legolas sought the solution until it presented itself. If it did not do so immediately, well, he was immortal. He would wait for the answer.

  
Aglarelen had been surprised to learn not too long ago that Legolas was still searching for some logic, some meaning to the deaths of his mother and sister. The two had been sitting high in the tallest tree outside of Thranduil's Palace. Legolas had been staring up at the sky watching the progress of the stars as they made their nightly journey. Aglarelen respected his brother's silence, but before long, the wistful, sorrowful look on Legolas' face made Agalrelen ask.

  
"Brother, what troubles you?" Aglarelen thought for a moment Legolas might not answer, but then, he spoke.

His voice was soft, below a whisper. It was a volume elves alone would hear, and Legolas had either adopted it to keep from being overheard, or, as was more likely, he was so lost in thought and in the stillness of his surroundings, that a louder tone would have seemed intrusive. "I look for them, Aglarelen. Do you ever do that?" Legolas' eyes remained riveted to the stars above, and Aglarelen could not fathom whom he might be seeking.

"Who, Legolas? Who do you look for?"

Legolas cocked his head to one side, and he almost smiled, though it was so slight a thing no one but Aglarelen would have noticed it. "I suppose it is not so much looking, as listening" he shook his head once, and corrected himself again. "No, not listening_feeling_."

Aglarelen was exasperated, but tried not to show it. "Who, Legolas?" He asked the question again, only hoping to get a more revealing answer.

Legolas turned then to look Aglarelen in the eye. In the same soft voice as before he told his brother whom he sought. "Naneth and Lindëriel."

Aglarelen hadn't understood what Legolas meant, but soon Legolas had explained that he often sought them–or rather some connection to them–at night in the embrace of the highest of trees, feeling their presence and asking why they had departed. He had received no answers as of yet.

The Crown Prince remembered asking Legolas why he tortured himself so and Legolas had gazed at him with an expression so puzzled it was almost comical. "I do not think it torture, yet I could not tell you why I do it. I think" Here he had paused and again cocked his head to one side, his eyes almost seeming to move by instinct to find the light of Eärendil. "I think I need to know that all is well. That they have fulfilled their part in Eru's song, and wait only to join once again when Eru permits." 

Aglarelen had stared at his brother as the stars made their way across the sky above Mirkwood. If Legolas was aware of his brother at all after that brief exchange he made no mention of it. The two sat until dawn at which time, by mutual if silent consent, dropped from the tree's limbs and returned to their rooms.

He thought of it from time to time, but Aglarelen had never made mention of it to his father. He did not understand it himself. Why should he burden Thranduil with it?

He brought himself out of his reverie and, sitting by his father, he rested one hand on his shoulder. Thranduil looked at him, and they shared an unspoken moment of love and hope.

Legolas will be well, Aglarelen thought. He must be. Whatever troubles him, we will cast it out into the light where it will shrivel and die beneath the weight of reason. He watched Legolas sleep the sleep of mortal men. "We will cure him."

He did not realize he spoke aloud until his father looked at him. He spoke again with assurance. "We will not lose our Greenleaf, yet, Ada."

Thranduil smiled, and still clutching Legolas' hand in his own, drifted off to sleep. Aglarelen watched over his brother and father through the night.

**

Gandalf watched Saruman from across the camp as the White Wizard appeared to be sleeping. The intention when Elrond had first stopped them here had been to rest for a short while, but it had now become clear that they would not move on until dawn. Saruman had seemed agitated, impatient with their slow pace, even with Gandalf's gentle reminder that their party was not entirely whole and hale.

Gandalf had spoken briefly with Haldir and Tauron of their troubling observations of the White Wizard, and he had offered assurances that he would discover what Saruman was hiding. He had seen the two distrusted Saruman, and he'd said all he could to assuage such feelings. Still, he himself had begun to harbor similar feelings. He knew Saruman did not exactly respect his opinions or his insights. Saruman was his superior. Saruman was head of their order, and as such, he undoubtedly held information he alone understood. If, as Haldir and Tauron insisted, Saruman had been speaking the Black Speech to an orc, surely, there was some reasonand yet

And yet

Gandalf had begun to suspect Saruman knew more about Legolas and Aragorn than he would tell. He did not think the White Wizard could cure Legolas. He did not believe the White Wizard had had any contact recently with the Ithryn Luin, for those two had disappeared long ago. Indeed, that they had resurfaced at all shocked Gandalf. What he did know was that he would need to watch Saruman carefully. He understood his superior very well in one way. He enjoyed his position as head of the order, and he did not readily share information. As such, if Gandalf wanted to learn anything that Saruman attempted to keep secret it would be through observation alone.

He puffed on his pipe as he watched. Yes, he was certain there was much going on that he had yet to learn.

**

Elrond watched his sons sleep, content that the three were, at least for the moment, as well as he could make them. Elrohir's odd affliction coupled with Estel's injuries had heightened his own distress during this journey and distracted him from the original purpose. 

His eyes moved across the camp to rest on Legolas. The young prince seemed to be resting comfortably in the arms of his family, and Elrond felt relief flood through him. His conversation with Estel before his youngest son had drifted off to sleep replayed in his mind. 

Estel's every thought seemed to be for Legolas. It did not surprise Elrond. He knew how close his son and Thranduil's were, and he had recognized the anguished determination emanating from Estel. 

He thought over their route to the Golden Wood. It would be better for them all if they could reach that safe haven sooner. By his best calculations, they might be able to reach Lothlorien in 12 days at their current pace. If they had to stop more frequently, or if some new trouble or enemy beset the entourage, that estimate would increase.

Perhaps if he were able to slip a sleeping draught to Legolas and Aragorn, they would be able to increase their pace, allow the two a bit of uninterrupted slumber, and reach Lothlorien ahead of the estimate. It wasn't ideal, certainly, but it might be a good answer.

He glanced again at his slumbering son, noting the creased brow. Worries seemed to grow in human sleep, and he was certain his son was worried. Aragorn was seeking a way to help his friend, even though they all admitted there was little that could be done. Galadriel and Celeborn had been their best chance, their best hope that Legolas could be restored.

The Lord of Imladris understood why Galadriel and Celeborn would prefer to handle such a thing from within Lothlorien. The very air of such a realm could lend some aid to reversing the condition, but Elrond also understood that being within the protected realm of Rivendell had done nothing, as far as he could tell, to aid him in Legolas' recovery.

As he watched his son sleeping, Elrond could only hope that somewhere in his dreams, Aragorn would find the answers that had eluded them all.

**

Galadriel listened as those around her surrendered to sleep. She required very little herself, even for an elf, and had grown to love the quiet, peaceful moments of predawn. Celeborn was awake as well, and watching her. She felt his eyes on her even though she was facing away from him. It was an anchoring sensation, one she was surprised that she welcomed, even craved. In the long distant days of her youth, she would not have believed she could willingly bind her heart, her life, her soul to that of another. That had been before she'd met him. Loving him had been as easy, as inevitable as breathing, and it was nothing short of a comfort to have someone know her so well.

Now, though they hadn't spoken for hours, she knew she could speak about anything and the conversation would flow as though they'd been speaking on that topic for hours. Instead, she turned to face him. His eyebrows raised infinitesimally as she drew nearer and spoke to him in a whisper none other, even one of their own race, would hear.

"The Young Prince may be beyond our aid." The admission troubled her, but she was saying nothing he did not already know. He did not respond, so she continued. "If there is a way to move more swiftly, I would have us take that road."

"That road or the one we are on will scarcely differ. Is there some urgency to his condition that I do not perceive?" Celeborn walked to her side and took her hand, and, in the physical connection, she felt his strength and knew it for her own.

"Nay, not one that you do not perceive. The spell cast was, I deem, an afterthought." She watched for his reaction, but, as she had said, he already knew.

"Some other goal"

  
She cut him off, which was rare enough that he gasped softly in surprise. "The Enemy has spies everywhere. He searches for those who may be his undoing."

"Legolas cannot"

  
She smiled a sad smile even as he at last understood and left the thought unspoken. Legolas was not a threat to the Enemy. At first glance this was so. Indirectly, he was, though the Necromancer could not yet know it. Perhaps as a son of the Elvenking, he could be considered a slight threat, but the larger, and, she hoped, lesser known threat he posed was as friend to He Who Would Wield the Blade that Was Broken.

  
She had watched this friendship form since long before either of the pair had been born. She had seen it, had told Celeborn of it, and had breathed a sigh of relief as she had watched it unfold. Seeing it had not been one of those strands of time that would taunt her with promise never to appear, she had become more than a little enthralled with it. She had received information from Elrond about Estel only on rare occasions as he sought to keep the man's identity a secret and speak of him very little.

Galadriel's main concern at this point was getting them all safely to Lothlorien. She was certain they would be better able to help Legolas within the protected realm. What troubled her about this was the unease she'd felt since Saruman had joined them. She knew Elrond prided himself on never turning anyone away from his realm especially those in need of aid or refuge. She had never claimed such a thing about her own realm, and indeed held a secret amusement, if not outright delight, over the fact that many mortal beings looked upon Lothlorien with trepidation if not outright fear.

She did not wish to allow the White Wizard freedom to wander through the Golden Wood. It was not a rational decision. She had seen nothing with either normal elvensight or with foresight. She could not say what about him troubled her, but she hoped her mirror might tell her more. This gave her another reason to want to reach her home as quickly as possible.

She realized her husband was still looking at her waiting for her to speakto explainto say in words what he had already guessed. She reached for his hand. "We must protect them, my love. We must find a way to keep them safe."

Celeborn nodded and squeezed her hand gently. She smiled and brought her free hand up to touch his face, a gentle, feather light caress starting from his temple and following the curve of his cheek. The slightest of smiles touched her lips, and her eyes twinkled. "I do not wish Saru" She was more shocked than words could say when he interrupted her much as she had done in speaking to him earlier.

"I shall speak to the White Wizard."

His eyes spoke of things he did not put into words, and she lost herself for a moment in the love, admiration, protection and devotion of her husband. Together they would find a way to overcome the Shadow.

**

Celeborn knew at once that Galadriel's thoughts were occupied with thoughts of how to help the young prince, but he had also guessed that another part of her wished Saruman to leave them. She had long harbored feelings of unease around the White Wizard. She could not, or would not, explain them.

Such reticence to discuss what she saw, what she knew, did not trouble him. He had long held his peace when confronted with such secrecy, and, in truth, he knew she would share anything with him that needed to be shared. His trust in her was unfaltering.

Her worries over Saruman had long been growing. He himself did not particularly like the White Wizard, but for Galadriel, it seemed much deeper. He knew she must see or sense something along a different plane than he did. 

"The Young Prince may be beyond our aid." 

Celeborn knew this was a difficult admission for his wife, for her interest in him extended back before he was born thanks to her foresight. He also sensed that she was aware how fond he was of the young prince. Celeborn knew his wife well. She would have no wish to hurt him by such words. He waited patiently for her to continue.

"If there is a way to move more swiftly, I would have us take that road."

Her words surprised him. She was not one to dwell upon things that could not be changed, and, in truth, the list of things she could not changed generally frustrated her to no end.

"That road or the one we are on will scarcely differ. Is there some urgency to his condition that I do not perceive?" Celeborn reached for and took her hand offering her his own support and strength.

"Nay, not one that you do not perceive. The spell cast was, I deem, an afterthought." She watched for his reaction, but, as she had said, he already knew.

"Some other goal"

  
When she cut him off, he could not withhold a small gasp of surprise. She had rarely done so in all their long lives. They valued one another's opinions and he could not think what urgency would change that.

"The Enemy has spies everywhere. He searches for those who may be his undoing."

"Legolas cannot" He had begun to speak without first considering her words. Their meaning silenced him as swiftly as her early interruption. Legolas alone was not a threat, but perhaps the threat was hidden in a unique friendship between two Princes of Middle-earth. Separately, they were formidable foes, but together, their loyalty, bravery, and willingness to sacrifice for the greater good could indeed make the pair more of a threat to the spread of the Shadow.

He continued to gaze at her steadily waiting for her confirm his guess. When Galdariel took his hand, he knew the truth on her mind before her lips spoke it. "We must protect them, my love. We must find a way to keep them safe."

Celeborn nodded and squeezed her hand gently relishing the way she touched his face in response. 

"I do not wish Saru" 

"I shall speak to the White Wizard." He did not know what possessed him to interrupt her, but he had a strong desire not to hear her lovely voice say that name. It seemed odd, unfathomable, yet it was a truth he dared not deny. He vowed to speak to the Wizard at first light. He would suggest the Wizard depart, perhaps to search among his writings and scrolls, a collection of the past knowledge of Middle-earth rumored to rival that of Elrond's library. Whatever the Wizard's reaction to the request, he would make certain Saruman knew he would not be welcome within the Golden Wood.

To Be Continued

Deana: Thanks! I hope this works for you. I'm sorry you had to wait so long.

  
MarySuesREvil: Thanks so much for catching those spelling errors. I am going to fix them. I appreciate the attention. Don't worry about Saruman. I've got plans for him. You're right of course. Tolkien never says one way or the other about what the twins do. Since whether they sail to Valinor or not has no bearing on the outcome of this story, I suppose it doesn't make much difference, but perhaps I will reconsider and write another stand alone that addresses that very thing. We'll see.

Silvertoekee: There's still suspicion about Saruman, and there will be more I'm sure. I just don't know how much more! Legolas' condition will be addressed really soon. I promise.

Catherinexxix: Thanks. I appreciate that. I'm glad you're finding so much to like, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. There's plenty with all of your favorite characters to come.

Mystical panther: Sorry about the long wait. I hope the extra chapter makes up for that a little.

Tychen: Saruman got me cornered again, didn't he? I'm going to push him aside for awhile. He's not out, but he's going to be silent for awhile. Stupid wizard.

Sirithiliel: Sorry for the wait. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

Joee1: I'm not going to hurt Haldir againor at least I'm not currently planning to do that. I don't know what the muse is planning, but since she's been either in cahoots with Saruman or easily abducted, I'm not sure I should listen to her anymore.

Gwyn: You're right of course. Haldir suspected Saruman from way back, or was at least inexplicably distrustful of him. There will be more of this later. As for Galadriel, even she says, often, that the mirror doesn't always show you what you want to see, nor what you expect to see. Even when it does, it's probably a matter of degrees and of how you interpret the visions. Not very reliable as a source of information.

Leggylover03: I'm not sure how many chapters. I'm thinking thirty to forty, but then I don't know what the muse knows, and since Saruman has her all uncommunicative, I can't begin to guess. As for fixing the elf, Aragorn is working on it.

Alariel: I love that scene in the film when Aragorn hugs Haldir and Haldir hugs bag–although more surprised than enthusiastic. I agree about Saruman's arrogance. He's convinced of his own superiority.

  
White Wolf1: I'm still not sure how far to push this suspicion of Saruman. I don't want anyone certain of anythingbut then againwell I guess I'll just have to see how it turns out. Just like all of you! More Aragorn, Thranduil, Aglarelen and Legolas to come.

Chloe Amethyst: Yes, Saruman is shortsighted and rather arrogant, but that's the point of his corruption, I suppose. Pride goeth before a fall and all that. There will be more with Gandalf and Haldir and Tauron. I'd love to have meetings or live in trees. I was so beside myself a few weeks ago because the trees seemed to be taking so very long this year to bloom. They finally have and I'm so happy! I'm planning more with Legolas' family. I'm glad some of their angst is coming across. 

Grumpy: I do indeed wonder what Elrond puts in his tea! More with Haldir to come.

  
Strider's Girl: I promise more Aragorn soon. (Read next chapter!)

  
Templa Otmena: I'm thrilled that you like the flashbacks. I was trying to use them explore Legolas' family and their interaction. Thranduil and Aglarelen want what's best for Legolas, but this standing aside is getting to them. I'll be using more of that later. You really know how to make my day, don't you? When I read what you wrote about Thranduil's "love and respect for Legolas was also brilliantly conveyed" I was giddy! I'm overjoyed that you like Aglarelen. I was hesitant to do too much with an original character, but I wanted some history for Legolas. Yes, I'm trying to keep the stories linked, sort of like the family history that Tolkien never provided–though I'm certain if he had provided one, his version of Legolas' family and childhood would have been vastly different. I wasn't sure when I wrote it about including the part about Legolas' dreams in Imladris from Aglarelen's POV, but in the end, there was too much there I wanted to convey. Yes, the line about Estel's screams usually being the ones shattering the peace–I meant that to convey the surprise of elves that the young human is actually in a position to offer what he has only received to this pointlike a human parent being surprised when their child is suddenly grown. It does mean a lot to me that you–and so many other readers–like the way I've written Galadriel and Celeborn's relationship. It's not easy to write them and keep them as ethereal and awe-inspiring as they are meant to be, and yet reveal their emotions, their thoughts, and their fears and desires. As for my ideas of how old Legolas isin my little corner of Tolkien's world, I can't believe he's 2931 years old at the time of the War of the Ring. In my mind, and as I write him, he's the youngest elf to be born in Middle-earth. I'm careful to say it that way, too, because, while I know Tolkien said that elves eventually lose interest in procreation, I won't say there aren't any baby elves running around in Valinor. I believe Legolas is youngish for an elf. Pronbably he's 500 to 1000 years old by the time of the War of the ring. I know this won't ring true for some fans, but since it hasn't been divulged by Tolkien–even in his posthumous writings–we can debate it all we like without truly flouting canon! Thanks once again for your wonderful review. I quite enjoy reading your insights and your opinions. Sorry for the long delay. Keep reading!

ryuujin dragon king: Thanks! I'm glad you like it. More Haldir soon. 

Beling: Thanks so much! How flattering. I'm thrilled you like the story. Please keep reading and reviewing.

Grumpy: Thanks for the follow up. I think you helped me defeat Saruman's evil hold on my muse! Thanks for reading. 


	28. part 28

As promised, another chapter.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

****

Encroaching Darkness part 27

By Ecri

Saruman urged his recalcitrant steed to greater speed, fuming when he realized it still held back. Unwilling to allow the beast to defeat him, even in such a minor test of wills he removed a wicked looking short whip from his saddlebags and struck the animal's rear flank. He did not bother to hide his enjoyment at the surprised, pain-filled whinnies and snorts with which the sudden burst of speed was accompanied. When he felt the horse begin to slow again a few moments later, he struck several more times until sweat and blood mingled on flank as well as whip. He allowed himself a sinister smile as the speed of his mount finally increased–and was maintained–to his satisfaction.

He had been surprised when Celeborn, that half-wit consort to the elf-witch, had hinted that perhaps his time would be better spent searching the tomes of his own library for a way with which to help Mirkwood's Prince. He sneered remembering Celeborn's words.

"We would think you have access to more spells than any other, Saruman. If the Prince is to be restored, we would have need of the secrets you have hidden away in your tower."

Saruman recalled how he had felt his own eyes narrow at the suggestion as he searched for some hidden meaning. Initially, he had demurred insisting he would be of much more benefit with them on their long journey. 

"I would ride the rest of the way with you, Lord Celeborn. What spells I might possess in Orthanc are ancient and of little use to remedy a condition none have ever before seen." He'd been proud of his reply until Celeborn clarified the situation.

"Nevertheless, My Lady and I believe it to be an elven matter. As such it is best attended by elvesand those accepted as family."

He had, in the end, been forced to agree with Celeborn when it became clear he was not welcome in Lothlorien. 

What, Saruman wondered, did the silver-haired fool know? Was he guessing? Saruman had many secrets within the walls of Orthanc, and he doubted Celeborn could possibly know what they were. He thought of the orcs who had recently come to speak to him, but he was certain he had not been seen, and certainly not by the Elf Lord.

His mind raced through the conversations he'd had with the others as they traveled, but he could not have given anything away. No. He was certain his secrets were still safe. Celeborn must have believed he truly held some ancient secrets that could help the elf. Neither he nor his Lady suspected anything. Relieved, he again struck his horse denying it rest as he forced it to gallop to Orthanc.

Celeborn had offered a smile, a sickeningly elvish smile, but his words told Saruman that, though the Lord and Lady most revered by elves in Middle-earth were still unwilling to appear rude to him for no justifiable reason, they did not trust him. That revelation in itself was a shock. When, Saruman wondered, had they begun to see his duplicity? What mistake could he possibly have made?

He discarded such questions as soon as he'd conceived them. Their distrust could be no more than emotional. There was no mistake he might have made. There was no chance he had given himself away. They were clearly reacting by closing ranks. In recent centuries, elves had begun to sequester themselves from the mortal races, and certainly many still residing in Middle-earth believed their troubles were best handled away from those of other races. Saruman had little doubt they would dismiss Gandalf next, and the human ranger, for all they claimed to consider him one of Elrond's sons, would likely be sent north long before the group reached the Golden Wood.

Saruman had been astonished to be so soundly excluded. He'd saddled his horse quickly, and, adopting an air of wisdom, let it be known that he would search Orthanc and even Gonodor's libraries themselves for some way to help the prince.

He had little recourse, but a return to Orthanc would likely be better for his plans than remaining with the elves. He had ways of assuring his own goals were met though he could not be present to bring his plans to fruition. He would achieve more on this journey than the distrustful Elf Lord could imagine.

**

The group traveled more swiftly than it previously had done and Gandalf was not certain that this was not from the relief of Saruman's departure. Why he himself should feel such relief was obvious. He was concerned by what Haldir and Tauron had told him. He had thought he would have time to confront his superior, but when Saruman had announced he would be leaving, Gandalf had little time to decide a course of action.

Unwilling to act in haste, he did take a moment to consider how he might broach the subject of Saruman's conversation with an orc, and, in the end, decided it best to follow his heart. He had information that he dared not keep secret.

Realizing he must speak to his superior for his own peace of mind if for no other reason, Gandalf approached the White Wizard as he was securing his last pack to his saddle.

"Saruman, before you leave I would have a word with you." He noted the frown of dissatisfaction that crossed the other Wizard's face, but he did not dwell on it. Saruman had always been less sociable than Gandalf might have wished.

"What words would you exchange, Gandalf? Have you some thought on how to cure the Prince?" Saruman leaned slightly toward Gandalf as he spoke, and Gandalf thought he saw an emotion he could not name flicker across his face. Curiosity? Eagerness? Anticipation? Irritation? It was all of these and none of them.

"Some have seen you using the Black Speech in conversation with Mordor's minions. I wondered if you had aught to say of such a thing. Were orcs so close by our campsite that you could be obliged to speak to them in their own tongue?" Gandalf kept his voice laden with curiosity but with no hint of recrimination. He watched the White Wizard carefully knowing his nonverbal response would be as revealing as his verbal one.

"Ah!" Saruman offered a slight smile as if pleased with something. "I am glad you have asked. The orcs are indeed close by. I did run into one who seemed bent on the capture of one of our group. I can only guess he was charged with taking whomever of us fell to that spell so recently cast on Elrond's second son and the Balrog Slayer. A spell in his own tongue soon sent him away believing he had said elves in his possession. I imagine there will be little amusement over the ruse once he reaches Mordor."

Gandalf smiled at the ruse. It was indeed a clever thing. "What spells of the Dark Tongue have you found?" Gandalf's interest was quickly kindled at the mention of such a thing. "Have you seen mention made of Legolas' condition?"

Saruman shook his head. "I have seen nothing that I can now recall at all similar to such a situation. I go to search my records. Perhaps even Gondor's unless I hear that you and the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien have restored the Prince."

Gandalf nodded. "I would love to see the scrolls from which you have learned so much of the enemy."  


Saruman's face soured. "That is not your affair, Gandalf. We each have a different task set before us by the Valar. Yours and mine do not overlap."

Chagrined, Gandalf nodded again. "Of course. You are correct, Saruman. Forgive me."

Saruman nodded in easy acceptance as Gandalf bowed slightly in respect. "I would see the Prince and the human before I take my leave. Anything I know of young Legolas' condition can only aid my search for a cure."

Gandalf stepped aside to allow Saruman to pass, taking the reins of the horse to hold him steady as the White Wizard crossed the camp to stand by Legolas and Estel. He watched as Saruman knelt by the Prince and took his hand as though checking his condition. Then, offering a word of two to Thranduil, he glanced at Estel, who slept uneasily. He hesitated as though he would learn more, but seemed to change his mind. Returning to Gandalf's side, he claimed his horse. 

"They are as I expected. I will ride swiftly, Gandalf, and I will come to Lorien or send a message when I find something." Saruman leaped upon his horse's back and raced away without looking back.

Several days had past uneventfully and the certainty that they moved if not more swiftly than certainly more easily with Saruman gone remained with Gandalf. It was likely just a releaser of tension. He knew several of the elves present had never felt entirely comfortable around Saruman. Perhaps it was the White Wizard's rank and authority, which the elves would consider of a different, more holy authority than any wielded by Elf Lord or King. This made little sense, of course, but Gandalf could think of no explanation.

He shook his head. Such pondering was something he could concern himself with much later. Perhaps in Lothlorien after they'd seen to Legolas' condition.

Legolas. It worried Gandalf that the young prince seemed to be having a difficult time dealing with his ownactions. He had not yet been able to convince the young one that he had done no ill in killing Pallando or in participating in the death of Alatar. Legolas had been unable–or perhaps unwilling–to speak of it again. Indeed, Aragorn had mentioned to Gandalf earlier that he believed Legolas' nightmares were worsening.

They would reach the Golden Wood in less than a week, and Gandalf could only hope being within its borders would ease Legolas' burden, but the fact remained, his nightmares would have to be dealt with whether he was restored to his Elven nature or not. The form of the dreams might be unique to Legolas because he was now human, but the guilt would have been there regardless. Legolas took great pleasure in his connection to Arda, his devotion to Eru, and his joy in the Great Song. He now somehow believed he had done the unforgivable, and the sorrow Gandalf sensed in him would likely only increase if he were restored. If that were to happen, he worried for Legolas' life. 

He watched the Prince cradled in the arms of his father as they rode on to Lothlorien and wondered what would become of Mirkwood should its youngest prince succumb either to mortality or to elven grief.

**

Evening fell quickly and Legolas took comfort in the silence of the slumbering camp. He had eaten what he could, and had seen Estel being fussed over by his father and brothers nearly as much as his own family fussed over him. It was a relief to him to be able to stare up at the stars and listen to the sounds of the night. He knew he would have heard much more if heno. He would not dwell on what he had lost. He could not bear it. It would be enough to try to avoid the nightmares this night.

He had been dwelling recently on what he had done. Gandalf tried to assure him that he had done nothing wrong, but he found that almost impossible to accept. When it had happened, his instincts had taken over. Estel's life had been in danger. He'd done what he'd had to do. The certainty that Estel would have been killed had he not intervened made it impossible to regret what he'd done. He would trade his life for Estel's without question, without thought. Taking a life had always seemed unnatural to him, for destroying any part of Eru's creation seemed in itself almost blasphemous. Of course, Orcs were mockeries of Eru's creation, and taking the life of a wolf or warg or even one of Mirkwood's spiders was often a matter of self-preservation or of protecting someone else.

Was this any different?

He knew Estel and Gandalf would not have him think so. In truth, it was almost too easy to convince himself that he had acted rightly. Imagining the alternative–Estel's life cut short or perhaps twisted even as orcs were twisted forms of elves–seemed to justify what he had done. Seemed to.

It was, Legolas knew, a seductive and false reasoning. It was too easy to justify almost any action with such logic, and, if the ends were to justify the means, than the most hideous, horrendous acts would be much too readily acceptable.

He almost sighed but restrained himself. His father and brother had grown too sensitive to any sound or sign of discomfort or fatigue from him, and he had not the strength to deal with their concern right now. 

His eyes, still focused on the stars above, brought his awareness to the sight. He too easily lost himself in the twists and turns of his own thoughts. Waking was as different for a human and an elf as sleeping, and he found his memory was not as sharp as once it had been. He had been speaking to his brother just this morning as they rode and Aglarelen had mentioned in passing several things they had shared once long ago. From the way he spoke of these memories, they had often spoken of them, reveled in themyet Legolas could not recall anything about what he had described. He had pretended though falsehood came not easily to him and he was certain his brother had seen through him.

He had always relished the keen memories of his kind. He'd once heard a man who'd come to Mirkwood as part of a group representing Dale remark to one of his companions that a man was the sum of his memories. He'd thought it an odd thing to say, since he was well aware that human memory was not as sharp as elven, though he did not know how greatly they differed. It had immediately occurred to him that if a man were the sum of his memories, an elf must be more so.

Now, he was losing those. His memories were all he had of some of his family and friends who had succumbed to either the call of the Sea or to orc arrows or elven grief. If his memory failed him, would he lose them all? His heart constricted as he though of his mother, his sister. His love for them, and theirs for him was still with him. That, he somehow knew, he would never forget. 

The relief that flooded him at that realization almost distracted him from something else. His heart skipped a beat. His mother's faceher voicetreasured memorieswere leaving him. He stared at the night sky, watching the stars in their inexorable journey across the curtain of night, but he could not bring his mother's face to mind.

So lost was he in the terror and grief of it that he did not notice the first tears as they fled the corners of his eyes.

**

The days passed more quickly than any expected, and, though a few of the scouts and rear guards had seen orcs, none had come close enough to the travelers to cause concern.

Aragorn felt his own strength returning, though his father and brothers, and to a lesser extent, Legolas, still insisted upon more rest than he felt he needed. It was both heartening to be so loved, and frustrating to be so restricted.

He had noted Legolas' increasing silence over the last few days. Always somewhat more inclined to enjoy the quiet of a peaceful morning, his friend had begun to stretch his usual morning stillness until it lasted much of the day. Aragorn had seen Legolas responding to questions from his father and brother, but in as few words as possible. He did not seem inclined to converse with anyone for any length of time, and was often lost in his own thoughts. Aragorn knew how his friend's mind worked. He was brooding over something, and if his talent in that area had been formidable when he had been an elf, it had grown exponentially since his transformation.

He pulled his thoughts forcibly from such considerations. He had spent the last several days–near a week since Saruman had left–attempting to find a way to help his friends. Lost in his own thoughts, he knew his own father and brothers thought him as unnaturally silent as he thought Legolas had been.

He knew there was a way to cure his friend, if cure it could be called. He was certain of it. He'd dreamed last evening, and the images, when he'd been able to decipher had seemed to be telling him something. 

Unable to decipher his own jumbled thoughts, he sought advice where he always did. He glanced to his left where he knew his father had been riding earlier in the day. The Lord of Imladris had taken to positioning himself close to Aragorn even though the young man was well enough to ride unaided. "Ada," Aragorn called softly hoping his voice would not carry to every other elf in the company.

Elrond's attention shifted to Aragorn immediately, a slight frown painting his features with a fatherly concern. "Estel? Are you well?"

Aragorn smiled. "I am well, Ada. Ihave something to discuss with you" He hesitated, unsure how exactly to discuss the vague thoughts and passing dream images that had raced through his mind during the last few days. Finally, he looked at Elrond. "I've been thinking about Legolas"

When he paused again, Elrond smiled. "That is hardly surprising news, my son. I've seen you watching him."

Aragorn returned the smile. "I need to help him, and I am sure that I canthat there is something we've overlooked" He groped for the words he needed. "I don't know how I know it, but I'm sure there is a way to reverse thisto restore him to himself."

Elrond nodded. "We all hope this is so, Estel."

__

"U-estel. Iston." (Not hope. I know.)

Elrond appeared slightly startled by the vehemence, the conviction in his son's words, but Aragorn rushed on with what little he could explain. "My dreams are haunted by images of him fighting somethingand losingit's as if he doesn't know how to fight it. It's as if he's doubts he can fight it."

"Fight what, my son?" Elrond's voice was soft, soothing, almost coaxing, and Aragorn looked into those ancient eyes wishing he had some answer.

"I don't know."

**

Elrond had not expected such a conversation with his son, though he had long been aware that Aragorn was tormenting himself about something. That he had some notion of being able to cure his friend did not surprise him in itself, but the certainty that he could do it was harder to explain away.

The Elf Lord had long told himself that there was something special about Aragorn, and it was not only that the young man was Isildur's heir. Elrond had, after all known all of Isildur's heirs in the long line of descendants that stretched from that Age to this. Aragorn was unique in the long line of Elros' descendents in his unwillingness to accept his destiny. Elrond recalled Arathorn's wholehearted embrace of the notion that he would be the one to reunite the Kingdoms of men and rule as King of Gondor. Though the man was a good man, an admirable leader, Arathorn had also become restless. Though all who knew his identity as Isildur's heir had cautioned secrecy, Arathorn had argued, quite eloquently, that he should return to Gondor and claim his birthright. After Aragorn's birth, Arathorn had, by turns, embraced the hiding and secrecy for his son's sake and yet also railed against in his restlessness.   


Elrond believed the restless, unsatisfied nature of the man had been what had driven him to hunt orcs almost as relentlessly as Elrond's own sons. 

Certainly, Arathorn had no intention of dying on such a hunt, and he had been a devoted if somewhat distant father for the two years he'd had a son, but his passing had left his child in a dire predicament.

  
Elrond had taken the boy and his mother into his home–into his heart–with no hesitation. He had seen at once that this boy would be the one his father had hoped to be. 

Now, watching his son's insistence that Legolas would be well, Elrond wondered if it was his heart, his mind, or something else that was only now awakening–in time of great need–which told him such. It was, he knew, much to expect from one who–though he would rail at such a thought–was quite young. Still, Elrond had known for all of Estel's life–since the moment he'd hung the Elvish name on the frightened child who'd looked up at him with tears in his eyes–that this was a part of his nature even as it had not quite been present in Arathorn.

Elrond reached towards his son and placed one hand on his shoulder and with the other took his son's hand. "How is it you are so certain, my son. What have you seen?"

Aragorn looked away for a moment and Elrond wondered if he were groping for words to explain or simply sorting through his emotions so as not to speak with only that to support him.

He watched Aragorn take a deep breath and slowly exhale. Then the young man's eyes locked onto his father's. "I don't know." His voice seemed helpless and uncertain for a moment, but it took only another moment for that to fall away to reveal conviction and certainty once more. "I only know he is whole and hale and can be what he was"

Elrond took both his son's hands in his own. "Estel, tell me what you see. What images haunt your dreams?"

"It is not my dreamswell, perhaps it isor wasbut the images come now when I am awake"

"What images?" Elrond's patience with his children was very nearly limitless, and he exuded a sense of calm confidence in Estel in hopes that knowing Aragorn would see how great was Elrond's belief in him.

To Elrond's surprise, Aragorn smiled and his anxieties, which he had admirably controlled, seemed to flee. "Legolas will be well."

"So you say," Elrond said as his son failed to elaborate. "Will you not tell me more?"

Aragorn nodded and began to explain what he had begun to suspect.

  
To Be Continued


	29. part 29

Thanks to all who reviewed! Responses are at the end.

FYI: The delay for this chapter was more because of a problem with Mircrosoft Word than anything else. My writer's block is improving, but my program has begun writing words over top of preceding words. I have to go through and manually fix any problems I spot. If anyone knows what might cause such a thing, please let me know.

With no further delay

****

Encroaching Darkness part 29

By Ecri

The company of elves, and one human ranger, had traveled swiftly towards Lothlorien, but Thranduil had seen little of the scenery as they rode. Not one to leave his own realm often, he usually savored the sights when he did, though this time, his attention was riveted to his sons. Legolas had improved slowly to his mind, but Elrond and Estel assured him it was a normal recovery rate for a human.

He knew his son was trying to hide things from him, and he did understand that the Ranger was better suited to help him in these instances, but he also felt that Legolas was underestimating what comfort he could offer. He was also willing to admit that his son likely suspected that he was uncomfortable around him because of the change.

Thranduil understood why Legolas would think such a thing. While Mirkwood often had dealings with men, no Mirkwood elf looked kindly upon the Secondborn. The King of Mirkwood was certainly no fan of the Race of Men blaming them for the continued taint of the Shadow that threatened their realm and indeed all of Middle-earth. Thranduil had never been kindly in his remarks about men in general, and, when Legolas had befriended a man, Thranduil had noticed a defensiveness in his son when discussing the friendship, which he showed a great reticence to do in front of his father.

Thranduil realized it had taken him some time to accept both the friendship and the man, but he had eventually done it. Estel was a good man. He was a good friend to Legolas, and Thranduil neither resented nor regretted his son's decision to embrace such a friendship. It was just beginning to occur to Mirkwood's monarch that he had never told Legolas this.

He was no fool. He had noted his son's uneasy sleep, even if he had had a difficult time adjusting to the notion of human dreams and nightmares. He had kept his distance reading embarrassment in his son's face at the mention of the uneasy nights.

It was as he cast another uneasy glance of his own at his son, trying not to be caught assessing his physical or mental condition, that something inside Thranduil shifted. He recognized his own stupidity and in angered him. The rage he directed at himself was unrelenting and in sharp contrast to the love he felt for his son. How could he have behaved so poorly? He had told himself he was acting in Legolas' best interests, but he could see now that it wasn't so.

Impulsive was not a word most would use to describe the ages old elf, but whatever you chose to call it, Thranduil made the hastiest decision of his life and urged his horse to draw up even with Legolas'. He waited patiently for Legolas' to notice, which did not take long.

"Ada?" Legolas asked softly, his voice still sweet and clear, though it no longer sounded as elven as once it had.

"My son" Words failed him. Putting the plea into his eyes, he reached out a tentative hand watching Legolas for some response.

Legolas seemed to stiffen momentarily, but then it melted away as he nodded almost imperceptibly and reached out his own hand to grasp his father's.

Thranduil smiled. He was certain that when they stopped their travels for the day, they would talk.

Gandalf had much on his mind as he watched Thranduil reach out for his youngest son, and much of that had to do with Legolas himself. He had, of course, been apprised of everything that had happened to Aragorn and Legolas before they had reached the haven of Rivendell and before they had decided to wait through the long winter and set out for Lothlorien with Spring. He had learned every detail of the unnatural sleep that had befallen most of the group, and he had discussed with Galadriel the visions that had told her to ride out from Lorien to meet the Rivendell party.

One thing Gandalf had never worried much about was coincidence. It would be wrong to declare that there was no such thing, and yet when you found yourself surrounded by nothing but coincidence, it was time to examine things much more closely.

Saruman's departure, as Gandalf had noted, had greatly lightened the mood of the elves. What about the other Wizard, he wondered, had so troubled them?

He snapped himself from such a reverie realizing that the more pressing need was Legolas' and Aragorn's safety for he was uncertain they were not even now under scrutiny. Gandalf could not–would not–swear to it, but he sensed a malevolent attention focused upon them. Watching for now, he was certain, but when might such passivity pass over into aggression?

Gandalf urged his own steed closer to Elrond and Aragorn, who seemed to be deep in debate once again. He had witnessed many an exchange between the two, sometimes joined by Elladan or Elrohir, but his own observations impelled him to intervene.

He rode silently next the Elf Lord and his son waiting for his presence to be noticed. He did not have to wait long.

"Mithrandir," Elrond whispered the name, but the Maiar had no trouble hearing it.

"Elrond, you and Estel seem to have quite a lot to discuss of late." He allowed his seemingly random gaze to find Legolas as he continued. "I don't suppose you could be debating the fate of our young friend."

Elrond smiled, and Estel, after confusedly following the Wizard's gaze, allowed a small grin.

"Once again, you seem to know all that goes on around you, Mithrandir." Elrond said no more, but neither did he suggest Gandalf leave him alone with his son.

"Not all, for none but Iluvatar can know all. I am, however, not oblivious to my surroundings. Tell me what causes such heated dispute."

Aragorn shook his head. "Not dispute, really, Gandalf. II have a notionI think I can help Legolas."

Gandalf feigned surprise. "Do you?"

Elrond waved a hand before the Wizard could continue. "He is not ready for what he suggests, Mithrandir. He is blinded by his desire to help his friend"

Gandalf made a sign with one hand, tracing a pattern in the air but a few alive would recognize. The warding away of unwanted attention would not last long, but they would reach Lothlorien in a few days. This might buy them a reprieve.

"Ada!" Aragorn spoke louder than he'd intended and hastily lowered his voice. "Ada, you said yourself I would have need to explore such things if I am to follow my de"

Gandalf cleared his throat and spoke before the Elf Lord could. "Do not be hasty about where you speak of such things, Estel. Secrecy should not be abandoned simply because you worry for your friend."

"There is no one here but close friends" Aragorn began.

Narrowed eyes behind bushy brows turned to glare at the human. "You know naught of what you speak, Ranger. You would do well to practice caution. It is not you alone I mean to safeguard, though that alone should be incentive enough for you to keep your tongue behind your teeth."

Aragorn swallowed his words.

Gandalf turned to Elrond. "We should discuss this in detail, for if I am right in my guess, the young one may be right." He held up a hand to forestall any argument. "We should discuss this, as I said, but in safer surroundingsand perhaps with an Elf Lord devoted to Iluvatar's will and not of with a father seeking to protect his youngest son."

When Elrond reluctantly acquiesced, Gandalf smiled. "You speak with the heart of a father knowing you may lose your sonbut you knew that you would lose him when first you took it upon yourself to protect him. Do not now seek to hide him even from his fate."

Gandalf could see Elrond was shaken by his words, and would likely have much to say when they reached Lothlorien. No matter. They would likely all have a lot to say, not least of all Estel.

The Grey Wizard smiled. Things were now coming to fruition that had been set in motion when Isildur had refused to destroy the One Ring. A foreboding shivered through him as his thought touched upon such a thing, and he hastily drove it from his mind. Saruman had assured them all that it was likely lost to the depths of the sea itself. There was little chance it might be found.

Why, then, he wondered, did he feel as though he'd seen the end of the world?

Celeborn was glad to dismount when a halt was called for the day. They would likely reach Lothlorien by the day after tomorrow, and he was in high spirits at the thought of returning to the Golden Wood. He had much to discuss with his wife. She had spoken little to him throughout the day, and he knew her well enough to realize what that meant.

She'd been lost in thought, driven by some vision or perhaps just by some notionsome answer to their questions. He knew she would have as much to discuss with him as he had to discuss with her.

He had been long in thought himself, and his musings led him along paths he had not before seriously considered. His concern centered on Saruman. The White Wizard had seemed reluctant to leave, though had, in the end, accepted Celeborn's strong suggestion. He had seen Gandalf speak to Saruman, and then he had noted Saruman's few moments by Legolas' side. He could not explain why, but the sight had given him pause. It was as though the sight unnerved him, yet he could not say why.

Saruman's short visit to the Prince had seemed to cause no harm, yet Celeborn had watched the young one carefully in the intervening days. Legolas had grown sullen and withdrawn, but Celeborn did not know if that were simply a reaction to his own slowly healing injuries, to the still troublesome notion that those to whom he had come for help had, as yet, found no way to restore his elvish nature, or to some human malady entirely beyond his experience.

The young Prince had seemed today to begin to open up to his father and brother. Celeborn did not know of what they spoke, but he had seen the trio of Mirkwood's royalty deep in conversation. He imagined some bridges were being built.

Celeborn's careful attention to Legolas over the days of their journey had shown him more than simply a more somber attitude. He had also seen the wistful expressions that seemed to appear more regularly on his face. Just that very afternoon, he'd approached Legolas hoping to offer some way to ease his obviously troubled heart.

"Your eyes hold a pain too intense for your years, young one." Celeborn's musical voice drifted over to the Prince where he sat trying to keep up a pretense of eating his midday meal.

Legolas looked up at him, a guilty expression fixed upon his face.

Celeborn smiled. "It is well, Greenleaf. I am here only to offer what help I may. I have lived through much, and would gladly assist you." He sat beside Legolas, and leaned slightly closer to him. "This must be a difficult time for you, and there is no one to whom you may speak who has gone through anything similar. The last elf who became human was Elros, and he did so of his own free will."

Legolas nodded as he looked away though he did not speak.

Celeborn leaned closer until his head almost touched Legolas'. Silver hair and gold nearly blended together as Celeborn whispered in Legolas' ear. "There may be none who know what you feel, Young One, but all wish to help. Tell me what troubles you."

The Lord of the Golden Wood sensed Legolas' reluctance, but his patience was rewarded a few moments later when Legolas took a steadying breath and began to speak. "I am losing memories. II can no longer recall the details of my mother's life–what little I ever knew of it. I no longer recall her voiceher face" He stopped speaking as a solitary tear slipped from his eyes and he clenched then shut against the deluge to come.

Celeborn placed a hand on Legolas' fiercely clenched fist and sent a surge of peace and understanding through the touch. When Legolas looked up at him, he offered a small smile. "Your remember her love for you. For now that will be enough. Your father and brother are here for you and they will not let you walk this path alone."

The simple statement compelled more of a response than a question would have, and Legolas spoke with a look of determination–even stubbornness in his eyes. "I would not share this burden with them, for to tell them I am forgetting my past" He looked away, and Celeborn saw him swallow twice before continuing. "I would not have them think I might forget them."

Celeborn's heart bled for the anguish the Prince sought to hide from those who might best help him bear it. "Ah, Greenleaf, your thought is noble. You would protect them while you may and yet you deny them the chance to do as much for you. You will not forget they who stand before you. You may forget moments or perhaps years, but you will not forget them anymore than you have truly forgotten your mother."

It had taken a few minutes of coaxing before Celeborn had been able to calm the prince. Looking back on it, the Lord of the Golden Wood could not help but wonder if Saruman might have caused the discomfort. Not intentionally, surely, but perhaps, less sensitive to the things that might upset an elf in so unusual a condition, something the Wizard might have said could have set the young Prince to considering things it would be best not to consider just yet. It had been after the White Wizard's brief moments with Legolas that he'd become so silent and sullen.

This was one of the things he wished to discuss with Galadriel. His wife, he knew, would have insights he would not partly from her gift of foresight and partly because, whether human or elfkind, male and female perspectives differed widely.

He watched her as she settled herself against the base of a tree, still watching all that took place around her. Her beauty still astonished him as did the fact that she loved him. He had never stopped thanking Eru for her presence in his life.

She seemed to feel his gaze upon her and smiled the slightest of smiles. "We have much to discuss." She turned and looked up at him, and her smile broadened. He took that as an invitation to sit by her.

Claiming his customary position to her right, Celeborn wondered if he should speak first or wait for her. His thoughts were interrupted when she spoke. "The Greenleaf is troubled, but it is Hope that will prevail."

Celeborn did not respond immediately, but when he did he mimicked her careful phrasing. "The White One spoke to the Greenleaf before he left us."

"He does not always tell us all he could."

Celeborn smiled. That statement applied well to both Saruman and Legolas, but he knew she meant the former. "We will be safe enough when we reach Lothlorien."

"We must hurry."

This surprised him. "We will be there the day after tomorrow."

She shook her head sadly. "We must be there tomorrow, or it may be too late."

He looked into her eyes noting the emotions flitting about deep within them, which anyone else would not have seen. "What have you seen?"

She was silent for some time, but when she spoke, her voice was so soft that even among elves, only Celeborn could hear her. "There is one chance to save the Prince, and once chance only. I fear it is not in my hands."

He had suspected she might claim to be unable to help Legolas, but he had not expected her to declare this to be so before they reached the Golden Wood. He thought it might be appropriate to speak to her and assuage her concerns, but, finding no words, he merely took her hand and sat holding it most of the night.

Galadriel rose early enjoying the early hours of the day as the first hint of dawn barely touched the sky. She and Celeborn had spoken to Elrond, Thranduil, Gandalf the night before. Gandalf had mentioned how he had from time to time used a small spell to ward off unwanted attention that he had sensed. He had mentioned that could not keep this up for more than a brief time, and he was still unsure what danger there might be.

She knew they were close enough to their destination to push through. If they shortened their breaks, if the nearly healed among their wounded would bear the strain, they could make Lothlorien before the next dawn.

Elrond's distraction had surprised her. He was generally attentive when others spoke, but she had known him long and was aware when he was distracted. She also knew it was usually concern for his children that troubled him.

In this case she hadn't been surprised to learn that he worried over Estel. He would not speak of it before they were safely within the Golden Wood, but his young son–she smiled at that thought, remembering Elros from whom this youngster actually descended–had some thought about how to heal Legolas. She had suspected he would. During the headlong flight from Lothlorien all done at little more than her word that 'an elf Prince of Mirkwood was in danger' she has sensed that a corner would be turned, a path opened where before it had been blocked, a road chosen where before it had been feared. She could not have said whose corner, path, or road it would be, but now, seeing the worry on Elrond's face and the determination on Estel's it was apparent.

Estel was choosing his destiny, and for some reason, this frightened Elrond. Was it the idea that he could lose his son? He had known that when he had adopted the child. An elf did not take in a human child without knowing he would, one day, watch that child die. Prophetic destinies concerning the reunification of human kingdom's aside, regardless of whether Estel chose to accept such a destiny, he would die. Accepting it did not alter his ultimate fatethe fate of all Men.

Perhaps Elrond was concerned about Estel calling attention to himself. She and all who knew his true identity referred to him publicly as Estel. One day, that would be unnecessary. One day, when the time came for him to claim his birthright, Estel would adopt his true name. Later, he would be called Elessar. She knew this was so, but she also knew the mercurial nature of the future. Even the wisest cannot tell which path would lead to which end.

Abandoning such thought until she could discuss them with Elrond in the privacy of her home, she thought again of Saruman. Celeborn had mentioned to her the other evening that Saruman had been alone with Legolas before his departure. The thought unsettled her, though she could not yet say why. In Lothlorien, when she felt free to speak, she would discuss that visit with the young Prince. She would know what Saruman said. She would search for some hint that the Wizard's words might have held a meaning aside from that which the forlorn Elf Prince would discern. It was not a lack of intelligence on Legolas' part that would cause such a misunderstanding, but a lack of experienceof years dealing with duplicity. In Mirkwood, the Shadow was not so subtle.

She mused over that thought. Why had her mind connected thoughts of Saruman with thoughts of the Shadow? The encroaching darkness of the Enemy could not hold sway over a Maiar? Though it had. It had indeed apparently held the Ithryn Luin in its grasp. Would Saruman be strong enough to turn from whatever had lured the Blue Wizards to abandon their directive from the Valar?

If he were not, the final battle, when it came, as surely it must, would be that much harder to win.

Haldir had set the perimeter guards the night before and he and Tauron had taken it upon themselves to walk that perimeter all night. "Tor," he called softly to his friend. "Do you sense"

Before he could ask the question, Tor's eyes widened. "Comewe should get a better perspective." In an instant the other elf had leaped into the nearest tree. Haldir watched after him for a moment before following his example.

Settled in the treetop, it wasn't difficult to locate what Haldir had sensed.

"Yrch!" Tor hissed between clenched teeth, adjusting his grip on his bow.

Haldir nodded. "Not many. Fifteen at best, unless my eyes deceive me."

Tor nodded. "They do not, my friend, but we must raise an alert. A small group of us will be enough to take them out."

Haldir did not agree. "Nay, my friend. They are even now disappearing into the caverns and holes to hide away from the sun's glory. We will not find them unless we venture within those dark places. I would not choose to enter another cavern for so little reason."

"It seems reason enough. We are only a day or so from the Golden Wood, and I do not like the thought of those foul creatures so near our borders." Tor's insistence was not lost on Haldir, nor did the March Warden disagree. The thought of orcs hiding so near their home, of them perhaps creeping closer within the confined secrecy of their stone passages was enough to flood him with a sort of fearful indignation.

"Come." Haldir shifted position in preparation for slipping down to the ground. "We must report this to our Lord. It is likely he will want the company to ride out swiftly while we dispatch these foul creatures. We will meet them after we have see to it."

Together the duo returned to the ground, and Tor followed Haldir to Celeborn's side.

Haldir bowed to his Lord and Lady. "I would wish a chance for a more formal greeting, but I must report. We spotted a band of orcs, 15 at most, taking cover from the rising son. There is every chance they do not know we are near. I do not believe they could have tracked us from the other caverns, so these must be a different group."

Celeborn listened to the report and nodded in silent agreement. He turned to his wife, and, after a silent communication, turned back to Haldir. "We will keep alert on our journey. If we need to camp again tonight, we will send a group to deal with them, but we should reach Lothlorien before the next dawn."

Haldir had expected such a response. Knowing their proximity to Lorien, he had assumed news of the orcs would have some effect on their plans, but he had also felt over the days recently past that the urgency to reach home was increasing.

Such urgency could conceivably have made him more sensitive to the proximity of orcs to the Golden Wood, but he could not help but feel that perhaps Tor was right. The orcs could not be allowed to linger so close to Caras Galdthon.

To Be Continued

Deana: Thanks.

Linuvial Greenleaf: Glad to see you're not lurking anymore. Isn't it better to be out here in the sunshine with the other elves? Thanks for reading and reviewing.

AM: Sorry!

Elven Kitten: Yes, Aragorn seems to know even more than I do.

Silvertoekee: Aragorn's plan will be revealed in or near Lothlorien depending on what I decide to dowell, you'll just have to wait and see. Good thing we're almost there.

Sirithiriel: Thanks. More soon, I hope.

Tychen: I'm never upset by follow up emails or an extra shove in the right direction to get me going again. I don't know exactly what I'm going to do with Saruman, but I'm working on it. I hope not to have so long a wait between chapters.

Mystical Panther: Sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy this. Yes, he suspects something. Most of them do, even if they don't realize it yet!

Grumpy: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm not quite finished with Saruman yet.

Alariel: I love your suppositions. I won't say what's right or wrong as far as the next few chapters, but I will say you are insightful. What Saruman has done and how will be revealed, and there will still be several more chapters to go. BTW, thanks for your extra email. You prompted me to hurry up with this chapter.

Leggylover03: Estel has to agree with you on that!

Beling: Ooops! Sorry! He's got more to say and will say it soon. I promise.

Catherinexxix: Thanks! I'm thrilled that Aglarelen seems so real to you, and that you like what I've done with Celeborn, Galadriel, and Gandalf. I really love those characters, and I like Celeborn to be more than just an extension of Galadriel if you take my meaning. More to come soon. So, you like a curious Gandalf? Heee! Me too! You seem taken with the Ranger as well. Aragorn seeking Elrond's thoughts on his plan was inevitable, and I wanted to show a bit more of Elrond's fatherly concern.

WhiteWolf1: Legolas angst! Ya gotta love it! I just thought Legolas' memory had to be addressed. That would be one of the more intriguing changes in going from elf to human. It's got to be a surprise to him at the very least. Yes, Aragorn is pretty sure he can do this, but Elrond is gonna take some convincing.

Chloe Amethyst: Thanks! I'm glad Celeborn and Galadriel are coming across as I intend. I love those characters. The elves are so intriguing to me, and Celeborn and Galadrielwell there's so much history between the two. We're getting closer to discovering how Legolas will be restored to himselfif it works that is(cue evil laughter!)


	30. part 30

Thanks to everyone who tried to help me with my Word problems. I don't know what the actual problem was, but it was obviously more serious and widespread than I thought. My computer all but blew up a short time ago, and I had to reinstall everything when my system folder unexpectedlydisappeared or ate my programs. I'm not quite sure and neither are the tech support people.

Personally, I think it was Saruman, but try telling that to the people at Apple Care!

Here is part 30 and I do hope you enjoy it.

Your kind reviews have meant the world to me, and each one spurred me on to finish this each time the recreation of the pages I'd lost seemed overwhelming.

Forgive me for not responding to each review, but I'm in a bit of a hurry to post this and keep working on chapter 31. I will respond next time, I promise.

Encroaching Darkness part 30

By Ecri

Haldir had insisted on scouting ahead, and, though Tauron had accompanied him, neither had spoken. The March Warden had felt an uneasy dread since he and Tor had spotted the orcs trailing far behind them. He had seen them enter the caverns, so he was aware that they were no longer a problem, but the knowledge of their presence had colored his thoughts. He could not simply put aside the notion that they were, somehow, still being trailed.

He did not think Tor felt the same way, but they had not discussed it. He glanced at his friend, only to find Tor already looking at him.

"What is it?" Haldir asked wondering if he'd missed some sign that they were being followed.

Tor smiled. "It is nearly nightfall my friend, and you have yet draw an easy breath this day. I would say you are distracted, but I can see with what diligence you seek some sign of danger. What worries you?"

Haldir knew his actions that day had been transparent, but he was not yet able to express what had troubled him. "The orcs" he began but stopped before he could say more.

"The ones we spotted retreating to their caves at dawn?" Tor prodded gently, but, Haldir knew, would not push the other elf for answers he could not yet give.

"Yes." Haldir admitted it easily and glanced back behind him eyes narrowing as he sought some clue that they were being followed. There was nothing as there had been nothing all day aside from the unrelenting uneasiness that plagued him. He spoke softly, more to himself than to Tor. "I do not think they have slept this day away. They could have kept pace with us" He allowed his words to trail off as he really had not evidence to support his supposition.

"How could they keep pace with us?" Tor's question was sincere. "We have seen no sign of them. How can they hide themselves from us?"

Tor's question reminded Haldir that they had traveled at a much quicker rate today than they had before now. That, and the fact that orcs did not like daylight made it likely that the creatures had rested through the day. Every bit of reason and logic he possessed told him they would be in Lothlorien well before the orcs could catch up to them.

He shook his head slowly and looked Tor in the eye. "I know it makes no sense to think so, but I do believe there will be a battle before long."

Tor, who had been scanning their surroundings, turned startled eyes on the March Warden. "Battle? You believe they search for us to engage"

"Search? No. I believe they follow us even now. They do not intend for us to reach the Golden Wood." Haldir glanced towards Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. "They intend to leave none alive."

Tor followed Haldir's gaze, and, caught his breath at the thought of what the March Warden was suggesting. "How can you know this?"

Haldir shook his head. "I cannot say. I have only felt that there was some plot to keep us from reaching Lothlorien sincesince I saw Saruman with that orc" He had indeed felt there was some trouble on the horizon, and Saruman was somehow linked to it. There was little he could do to prevent such trouble, but he knew he would not be caught unawares. Motioning to Tor to follow, he gathered together a band of his best warriors. He himself would head the group that would defend the Lord and Lady, but he had assigned a small group to cover King Thranduil and his sons, and Lord Elrond and his sons. He would not allow a single one of the Elven Leaders to come to harm if there was the slightest chance he could protect them.

Darkness was just beginning to descend as Elrond watched daylight give way to night. The stars appeared slowly, but the one he sought was easy enough to find. Eärendil shone first and foremost every evening, and was always last to leave the sky each morning. It gave Elrond a measure of comfort to see his father again, even if only from this unfathomable distance.

Elrond contemplated his youngest son's plan to help Legolas, and couldn't help but think that Galadriel and Celeborncertainly Gandalf!would be able to find some other cure.

Of course, if no other way could be devised, he would not interfere, and would indeed help Aragorn in his desperate attempt to save his friend, but that did not keep him from hoping such an effort would not be needed. He had long known his son–his many times great grand nephew if he wanted to be precise–would one day wish to claim his birthright. It was simply that he had decided long ago that there was no more to it than appearing in Gondor with the Ring of Barahir and establishing that he was the rightful Heir of Isildur.

Training. Aragorn needed training in this even as he had needed training in all the skills he now possessed. Certainly, he'd possessed an innate talent for these skillshunting, tracking, swordplaybut without proper instruction, his talents would have wasted away.

This was no different. This was a skill that could be learned, but only if the latent talent was there to be honed. It might prove to be a moot point, however, if Aragorn did not possess the talent. Oh, he was skilled enough in the healing arts Elrond had already imparted, but there was a chance that he had not the skills he would need to do as he suggested. Not all healers did.

He knew it would be best if Aragorn did indeed possess the skills, the innate talent he would need to achieve what he proposed. It would be better for Aragorn, for Legolas, and perhaps, if he dared hope it, it would be better for all of Middle-earth.

Of course, even if he possessed such talent, it would be a difficult way to find out about it. Such a healing as he proposed would be difficult for the most experienced of healers. Aragorn was not experienced. He was at mostenthusiastic.

Elrond was certain that Aragorn would give everything he possessed to save Legolas. What he was less certain about was whether all that Aragorn possessed would be enough to save Legolas.

Aglarelen kept one eye on his brother as the group pushed forward intent on reaching their destination before dawn. They would not stop for their evening meal. Those requiring it would eat as they traveled. Many of the elves would likely forego eating until they reached the Golden Wood. Estel and Legolas were the only two who would likely require something.

The Crown Prince of Mirkwood wished there were more he could do for his brother. That Legolas had begun to open up to him and to their father was surprising, but his words, his heartbroken admission that he was forgetting thingstheir mother, details of past celebrations, even some of the songs that he had once delighted in singing

Aglarelen shook his head. He had wondered why Legolas seemed hesitant to sing lately, and his brother's hesitant words gave him a reason he had never suspected. He wasn't hiding the change to his singing voice but rather he was hiding the change in his memory. Songs he knew as well as he knew his name were gone. Not all of them, but he did not wish to be in the middle of some Lay and find he had no idea what words came next.

He knew Legolas had always found solace in singing and that this solace was denied him now when he most needed it both saddened and infuriated the Crown Prince. More than anything he wished to know whatwas responsible for this. It could not be natural. If it be a spell, then someone had to cast it. Whoever had done it, Aglarelen wished only for a moment alone with the being. That would be more than enough time to make the evil creature–for evil he must be to do such a thing–pay for this.

He glanced towards his father suddenly ashamed of such thoughts and certain as only an errant child might be that his father knew what revenge-centered schemes raced through his mind. Thranduil was, of course, preoccupied with Legolas. Relieved that he had been spared the disapproving glower he was certain was his due, Aglarelen's gaze unconsciously followed his father's line of sight to see Legolas, easily keeping up the swift pace they'd all adopted as they neared Lothlorien.

As Aglarelen watched his youngest brother, he saw Legolas stiffen suddenly, turn to look behind him and peer intently to the rear of the company. The Crown Prince was astonished when, with a speed he doubted he himself could ever have matched, Legolas' bow–seemingly with an arrow already notched there–appeared in Legolas' hands. "Yrch!" Legolas cried loudly by way of warning at precisely the moment when Haldir's voice spoke the same word calling all warriors to prepare for the battle.

Wondering how he could possibly have missed signs even his now human brother had easily read, Aglarelen turned to face this newest threat.

Arrows flew through the air with a speed no human could match while elven swords met orc blades in a macabre cacophony. Most of the elves had dismounted to assist in engaging the orcs. Legolas, Thranduil, and Aglarelen followed suit. Legolas, Aragorn saw, was well protected. His father and his brother on either side of him, Aragorn saw him twice stay his arrow with great effort as his family seemed to drift in front of his weapon in their effort to protect him.

Frustration was not a thing the proud archer bore easily or well, but he made no comment and merely seemed to take slightly more care to shoot in the opposite direction from both of them. Certainly, there was no shortage of targets.

The Ranger had little time to wonder at his friend's state of mind, since he immediately found himself battling an orc of immense size and particular repulsiveness. The orc howled as its blade sliced the air. Aragorn's own blade lashed out and struck the orc's with a ferocity that the Ranger was certain would have shattered a lesser blade. With a howl of his own, Aragorn returned the blow and after a flurry of such strikes, managed to hit orcflesh. Black blood spurted high in foul arc as Aragorn's blade severed the creature's head from his shoulders. The body stood a moment, swaying, as though unsure if it should fall over or if it might continue the battle without benefit of the hideous head that once commanded it. A moment later, it fell to the ground.

Aragorn turned searching for another opponent just in time to see Elladan, already fighting two orcs, beset upon by a third. With a speed born of desperation, Aragorn made his way to his brother's side, blindsiding the minion of Mordor and forcing his blade to intercept a blow meant for Elladan. The orc was more than startled by the sudden appearance of a human between him and the elf he had targeted, and drew his sword back, enraged that it had not struck where he had intended. A deep growl was all the warning Aragorn was given, but it was more than enough.

In a move as crude and unelflike as it was effective, Aragorn nimbly twisted aside stepping backwards and to the left and bringing his sword down to strike a fatal blow at the hapless orc's neck. Sparing time for neither relief nor triumph, Elrond's sons continued fighting, and Aragorn could not help but wonder how–and from where–so many orcs had appeared.

Glorfindel pulled his sword from the dead orc's chest, his senses already scanning the area for any elf in need of aid. Before the orc he'd slain hit the ground, Glorfindel's sword was already raised in protection of Lord Elrond. The Lord of Imladris fought on, unaware that his life had just been saved, and that Glorfindel now positioned himself at Elrond's back to keep another of Mordor's creatures from taking the Elf Lord unaware.

It took much to terrify Glorfindel, but the current scenario was close to doing it. He and the others, he knew, would fight bravely, but if they should be overwhelmed, the leadership of the elves of Middle-earth would be gone. He had no misconceptions about the fate of King Thranduil and Mirkwood's Royal Line. The Orcs would take great pleasure in destroying those who had so hindered their progress in turning Mirkwood to the Shadow.

Elrond would certainly be a prize to the fell creatures as well. He who had protected Rivendell for so long and so well would be dismembered or worse.

It was with the final pair that Glorfindel's dark thoughts took a darker turn. The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood at the mercy of orcs and goblins was a thought he could not bear. Not that it was an easier burden to think of the others at the hands of such evil, but the Lady of Light should not be touched by such darkness. It would somehow make the defeat of all elvendom seem inevitable.

Glorfindel did not think his people would survive such a loss

As his thoughts swirled in their dark maelstrom, Glorfindel's blade sliced through air and orc. He felled orc after orc, his movements a very dance in their rhythm, yet deadly in their purpose. The Balrog Slayer attacked another that would have taken the head of his Lord's second son with barely a blink when another thought assaulted him. They had come so far on this quest to cure the young prince. He could not allow them to fail. He could not allow these dark beasts to prevent them from saving Legolas. With renewed vigor and an intensity that should have been beyond increasing, Glrofindel stopped defending and attacked.

Gandalf swung both sword and staff in a dance of his own making, striking orc after orc with a ferocity belied by his appearance. Battling amongst elves was both heartening and disturbing. Heartening because no creature in all of Iluvatar's Creation fought with such skill and intensity. Disturbing because the frenzied grace of an elf in battle made one wonder how a creature so fair and light could become so hard and dark–even briefly.

The battle itself was more of a puzzle than he cared to admit. He'd known the orcs had followed, but he had assumed they would not attack so large a company. He had not considered that they would have a company even larger.

He cracked an orc skull with his staff even as Glamdring deprived another orc of the use of his arm.

How long the battle raged, Gandalf would not have guessed, but the tide seemed to be turning. He spared a glance at Galadriel. Upon her face alone, of all the elves present, there was no hint of ferocity or battle frenzy. An infinite sadness emanated from those eyes, mesmerizing, haunting, and compelling. The Grey Wizard recognized the look. Galadriel, bloody sword in her hand, had paused in battle, trusting to her husband and her March Warden to keep her safe while the vision overwhelmed her. She saw something, and from her reaction to it, it was not a pleasant sight.

Gandalf shuddered at the thought, but he knew as well as she did that the foresight was not always accurate. The future was not so set in stone that it could not be altered. It was more than a curiosity, however. Galadriel had not–would not have–called forth this vision. The Lady of the Golden Wood might be no longer the warrior she once was, but she was experienced nonetheless. She would not encourage such distraction in the midst of battle. Something had come to her unbidden. Something that even now, if he could judge by the look on her face, saddened her beyond words.

He dispatched two more orcs, quickly if not cleanly, and fought his way to her side. He noted Celeborn's eyes darting in her direction as he fought to keep safe the Lady of his Heart. His eyes locked then on the Silver Lord's, and, without the need for words, a vow to keep Galadriel safe passed between them.

With a great shiver and a sharp intake of breath, Galadriel came back to them. Her eyes, still focused on the memory of her vision, searched through the battle as though seeking something–or someone. Her eyes stopped roaming, and Gandalf noticed the minute trace of relief as it flooded through her.

Disturbed, Gandalf stepped closer. Had she expected–or perhaps feared–that one of their number had fallen? He followed her gaze and saw it resting then on a small knot of elves, but he could not tell which it was whose presence she had doubted.

She glanced toward him then, her eyes wide and still pain-filled. "Go, Mithrandir. Go to his side, for he may well fall."

"Who? What have you seen?" Gandalf's eyes searched her face as though he might read the answers to his questions there.

Her words were a whisper. "Hope must not fail."

In surprise, he turned to look towards the knot of elves that had taken her attention and saw one human fighting in their midst. Orcs were nearly overwhelming the Imladris elves as they struggled against the horde. Gandalf saw Lord Elrond block a blow meant for his youngest son even as the Elf Lord moved to position himself back to back with the young Ranger. Without seeming to be aware of it, Aragorn's fighting style altered slightly as he kept in step with his father move for move protecting as much as he himself was protected.

Galadriel called again to the Wizard. "Go to his side, Mithrandir."

Without acknowledging her words, he moved at once to follow her orders only slightly surprised to see Haldir fighting at his side.

Aragorn knew his father had moved to stand by him, but did not allow himself to feel any relief at the Elf Lord's proximity. Relief could lead to sloppiness in battle, and, though young in the eyes of those he loved most, Aragorn was experienced enough to know that sloppiness could lead to death–for himself or for others. He would not risk those he loved.

He managed to fell another creature of Mordor when he became aware of the arrows flying around him. They were dark arrows hastily fletched in black feathers where they were fletched at all. Even the sound they made as they flew to their targets was nothing like the quieter yet more musical sound their elven counterparts made. He followed the flight of one backward to try to locate the orcs who used them, but they were hidden among the dense foliage to his left.

Elven arrows sailed through the air in answer to the orcs challenge, and Aragorn did not hide his smile of grim satisfaction as he heard the screams and thuds as they found their mark. Though raised among elves, he could not help but marvel at such skill. No human could have done such except by chance.

He stepped back in surprise as an orc twice his size loosed a battle cry and struck with strength unmatched. Aragorn raised his blade, blocking the blow. Spinning slightly towards the right, he managed to bring the blade around and under the orcs defenses striking with deadly accuracy.

Even as the corpse slid to the ground, Aragorn's felt himself propelled backward as something struck him. No blade or stone or arrow, this something forced him to the ground. The flash of golden hair in the familiar braids of Mirkwood warriors told him who it was, but his recognition became horror at the sight of the black flectched arrow protruding from his friend's back.

Aglarelen kept one eye on his brother throughout the battle. Though, if Legolas had caught him, the younger prince would be utterly convinced that Algarelen did so because he did not trust his brother's human abilities, Aglarelen had been doing the same since Legolas' first battle. It was not that Legolas was less of a warrior or that he had given Aglarelen any cause to believe that he could not hold his own in battle. No, Aglarelen was certain of his brother's prowess. No Archer in all of Mirkwood could equal Legolas. Yet Aglarelen's fear for his brother's safety was unequaled. He had fought with his other brother's many times, and his anxieties for them were real enough, but he had been surprised at the depth of his fear for Legolas.

After Legolas' first battle, Aglarelen has assumed it would be dispelled, but when it was not, he had spoken to his father of it.

Thranduil had listened to his words and admitted that he himself was fearful for all of his children. "Perhaps your bond with Legolas is stronger than you yet imagine," his father had suggested. He'd had to accept that answer then, and in the intervening years, he had seen that it was true, He and Legolas depended on each other much as Oropherin and Tarmathalion depended on each other. Why that should be so he could not tell, but it was enough that it was so.

Aglarelen watched as Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver and plunged it into the soft throat of an advancing orc and pulled it from the bleeding corpse before nocking it and firing it at another a distance away. _Where did he learn that trick?_ Aglarelen wondered.

He had little time to ponder the question as his blade found another mark and another. By the time he turned from the pile of dead orcs he'd collected at his feet, Legolas, caught in the ebb and flow of battle, had moved a distance away. Aglarelen headed towards his brother, glad to see that he was not alone. He'd managed to move closer to Aragorn and Lord Elrond.

Aglarelen's satisfaction deteriorated in moments. He saw, as though time itself slowed to allow him a better view, an arrow heading towards Aragorn. Just as he would have shouted a warning, he saw his brother, determination set upon his face, as he hurled himself at the Ranger. The burst of fear overwhelmed him, and Aglarelen felt his heart beat erratically in response. He heard nothing but saw the macabre and chilling image of his brother screaming silently as he fell, the dark arrow protruding from his back.

The fear unloosed him even as time itself resumed its normal march, and Aglarelen heard his own voice as his anguished scream echoed across the battleground.

Legolas had long been accustomed to fighting side by side with Aglarelen, but it had not always been so. It had been, when Legolas was a novice, a goal so unattainable in his young thoughts, that even now, he was sometimes surprised at having achieved it.

He knew he was considered a skillful warrior in his own right, and he was confident in his own abilities, but he had long held his brother as the best of the best and would not–could not–conceive of being as able as he. Especially now. He knew he was holding his own, but he felt his reflexes were not what they should be. His ears could not identify the numbers of orcs by sound alone. His eyes could not penetrate the shadows to single out the menace. His soul could not heed the warning of the trees themselves, nor touch the melody of Eru's Song. It was a burden even now in the height of battle.

Legolas did not long consider such things. He had not the time. He compensated as well as he could for what he now lacked as he would have done for any physical injury if circumstances required that he fight while in less than peak condition. In some moments, in a blissful instant that would pass so quickly he could not be certain he'd felt it, he could almost recapture it. He could almost see, hear, feel what had been stolen from him. Like moments of clarity within a befuddled mind or a second or two of clear vision after hours of blindness he would feel his body want to move as it once had, feel his senses almost meeting his expectations.

He was not quite sure if those instants should bring him despair or hope.

The crush of the battle moved him gradually from his brother's side, and before he'd been quite aware of it, he was engaged in knife work with a gnarled old orc. This particular orc seemed to have a fire in his eyes so bright did his hatred of the elf he faced burn in them.

Legolas slashed with both knives, slitting the orcs throat. Before it hit the ground, he'd already sheathed one knife, plucked an arrow from his quiver, and sunk it deep into an approaching orc's throat before fitting it to his bow and letting it fly. Though he did not watch it, he knew he'd struck his target.

Fatigue was something all archers felt, and, now that he was human, he believed it came much more quickly than it should. He paused as he searched for another target, another ally in need of aid, when he noticed Aragorn. The Ranger was holding his own against the orcs he fought, but it was the threat his friend could not see that gripped Legolas' heart with an icy touch and a surge of fear.

An orc across the clearing drew an arrow from his quiver. Its hideous oily lips were drawn back in a grimace as it sighted down the arrow and let fly. Legolas reached instinctively for his own arrow, looking fearfully over his shoulder as his fingers enclosed only empty air. He'd used his last arrow. He had no time–and certainly no opportunity–to search for another. Knowing a shout would not help, knowing instinctively that the arrow would hit its target simply by the path, he did the only thing he could.

All of this had taken only seconds within Legolas' mind, though time seemed stretched before him as though he had minutes rather than seconds. Legolas turned towards Aragorn, desperate to save his friend, and sprinted towards the Ranger. Within the instant of physical contact, time reasserted its familiar pattern and he felt every moment as he plowed into Aragorn. The bite of the orc arrow stole his breath away even as he struck the ground. He did not hear Aragorn call his name.

To Be Continued


	31. part 31

Author's Note: This is just a heads up. I wanted you all to know the story is winding down. It should only take another one or two chaptersI'm thinking twookay, maybe threeto finish this. I will have more LOTR fiction at some point, but really have to concentrate on my POTC story when this one is finished.

Thanks again to all everyone who reviewed. Once again I am pressed for time and unable to respond to each review. I do want you all to know how much each one means to me. I am thrilled to hear from you and I save all my reviews. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and to give me feedback. It means everything.

Encroaching Darkness part 31

By Ecri

Orthanc's obsidian exterior reflected the starlight as well as any mirror, but even its dark façade could not begin to hint at the dark thoughts of the tower's chief inhabitant. Saruman cursed as his Palantir failed once again to show him anything of any merit about his quarry. His orcs, he knew, had not survived the attack, and those few who might have raced back to him with some report had either been too afraid to face him with such dire news, or had decided they would be better received in Mordor.

The White Wizard cursed his misfortune. Gandalf had likely set a spell to keep prying eyes away. He did not believe that the Grey Wizard had power enough in his own spells to affect him, but it was conceivable that the Witch, Galadriel, had added her own power to his. If they believed there was enough at stakewhat could be that important, he wondered.

They escorted an elf made human to Lothlorien in an attempt to reverse something they could not understand. What about that one elf was of any importance to the ruling elves of Middle-earth? What about that Ranger made these elves protective of him?

He knew Sauron had entertained the notion that this Estel might be Isildur's Heir, but he was convinced that the Dark Lord was mistaken. That line was broken and would not be remade. It was impossible. He would have seen something of it in the Palantir if it had been a possibility. No, he was certain it couldn't be so. The elves who seemed protective of him might be just that, but the cause of that protectiveness was more likely to be the soft hearted, overly sympathetic nature of that misguided race.

If Sauron chose to believe that an heir existed, Saruman saw no need to dissuade him. It would certainly benefit Saruman's plans if the Dark Lord were preoccupied with trying to find him.

Saruman regretted that he hadn't been able to capture a single elf for his own purposes, and he was most disappointed that Mirkwood's youngest Prince had not succumbed to the control he'd tried to exert over the nauseatingly fair creature. If there had just been fewer of the elves around he might have been able to succeed. He regretted that he hadn't taken the elf all those months ago when he'd first cast the spell sundering him from his elvishness. He'd been preoccupied with other things, and the spell had been a delicious diversion.

No matter. He would have to get along without a new elf for now. Eventually, that would change. He glanced at the Palantir, but decided against trying it again. There had to be other ways to learn what Gandalf and his friends–he scoffed at the very notion of the Istari making friends–had planned.

His gaze fell upon the older, darker books in his possession and he smiled. There would be something there. He was not finished yet.

King Thranduil watched Aglarelen as his eldest son held firmly to his youngest son's hand. Legolas' pain was considerable. You didn't need to be a healer to see that, but the young prince made no sound as Lord Elrond and Gandalf examined his wound and discussed what to do about it.

Exasperation and the innate desire every father has to end his child's pain shortened his temper. "Lord Elrond, you have been looking at that wound for quite some time! Remove it!" He glowered at the Imladris Lord hoping that would make whatever argument his words hadn't yet made.

Elrond looked at Thranduil in the eye. "I will remove the arrow, Thranduil. It's what we do afterward that we are debating."

"What do you mean?"

"The wound is grievousand hehe is _human_"

Thranduil's blood ran cold at what he was being told. He thought he had grown accustomed to his son'sbut he realized that he had assumed Legolas would recover with no ill effects and little effort. That his son could diehe had known the possibility existed since he had first learned of the alteration in his son, but he realized now that, though he had feared it, a part of him had never believed it could happen.

He glanced at Aglarelen and saw the words had the same effect on him. Aglarelen's face had gone noticeably paler, and his hands trembled slightly. Thranduil took a step closer to his son and rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. Aglarelen did not look up, but he did bow his head slightly in acknowledgement of the touch.

He spoke to Elrond. "You must be able to heal him. You have the most experience dealing with humansyou can save him!"

Elrond shook his head. "I am sorry. It is a mortal wound."

Thranduil turned to face Galadriel. It was she and Celeborn whom they had traveled all this way to see. "Surely you can do something! If you could make him an elf again, Elrond could heal him then!"

Galadriel and Celeborn exchanged glances. Galadriel spoke softly. "I know of no way to reverse this. I have heard naught in all my life of any such affliction or spell."

Thranduil's heart shattered in that moment. If there was truly no way to save himthe grief welled up from somewhere deep inside him, and he choked back a sob. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

Elrond opened his mouth to speak, but it was not his voice that Thranduil heard.

"There is! I can help him! Please let me!"

Thranduil turned to see Aragorn standing to Elrond's left flanked by Elladan and Elrohir. The King of Mirkwood saw Elrond shake his head and turn to face his sons.

"Estel, you do not know for certain if you can do this thing. You have not the training"

Aragorn shook off the words, interrupting his father in his impatience. "Ada, please, I know I can help him."

Thranduil stepped away from his sons reluctantly and confronted Elrond. "What is it he speaks of? What does he wish to do?"

Elrond shook his head. "He cannot. He is not trained. We do not even know if he possesses the talent."

"Is it something you can do?" Thranduil asked the Elf Lord.

Elrond shook his head. "I have tried it, but I have not had the success I thought I might."

"You do not know what you seek! I do! I saw it!" Aragorn's irritation and impatience were growing, but Elrond did not address it.

"So you say." Elrond stared at his son.

Thranduil wondered what the Lord of Imladris was thinking. A low moan from Legolas brought the immediate danger back to him. Without turning to see his sons, he closed his eyes. "Elrond, if there is any chance at all" He did not want to beg, but this was his son! His child! His Greenleaf! "Please"

Elrond looked to Gandalf who in turn looked to Aragorn. Rising from his seat by the fire, the Wizard stood in front of the Ranger. After a moment he narrowed his eyes as if searching for something. "What did you see, Estel? Why do you think you might help him where your father could not."

Aragorn looked unflinchingly at the Wizard. "I shared with Legolas something Lord Elrond did not. When I was afflicted, it was he who tried to help me. I got a glimpse of his mind" He stopped speaking and willed himself to speak in less hurried tones. "GandalfI cannot explain what I saw, what I _know_, but I _can_ save him."

Thranduil watched Gandalf for any sign that he believed the man, and the King of Mirkwood could not have been more surprised by the Wizard's reaction. After several moments, the Grey Wizard smiled, nodded, and spoke. "I believe you can."

Gandalf had recast the warding spell to keep prying eyes from their midst when the fight was over. He couldn't spare the time, strength, and concentration to do so before then, and he could not dismiss the notion that their actions were not so private as they would wish.

He had been nearly to Aragorn's side, urged by Galadriel to help the Ranger when the fighting was at its worst, when he had seen the arrow. Looking back, he had to admit, he hadn't expected Legolas to do what he did. Not because Legolas wasn't brave or selfless enough, but merely because Gandalf hadn't been aware that the young prince was close enough, or fast enough, to do it.

Listening to Aragorn's pleas as he attempted to get Lord Elrond to understand him, Gandalf became certain that Aragorn had seen something that he himself had not. Aragorn's future, like everyone's, was impossible to predict. The hoped for outcome and the actuality might have little in common. Would Aragorn reclaim the throne of Gondor? Would he instead father the man who would do so? Would the ancient line end with him and thus destroy any chance upon Middle-earth for the return of the King?

He could not guess, nor could Lord Elrond, nor even Galadriel. Disheartening as that notion could be at times, it would certainly be heartening if Aragorn possessed the qualities of the King Gandalf suspected he _could_ become.

The hands of a king are the hands of a healer. It was an old axiom. Were Aragorn's hands the hands of a healer? He had learned much from his father. Elrond had been almost as eager to teach as young Aragorn had been to learn. It was this one skill, however, that Elrond had not attempted to teach. Gandalf was aware of the reasoning. It was a skill generally thought impossible to teach. You were born with the ability or you were not. Testing the youth Aragorn had been on such a thing would have been impractical at best and deadly at worst. Certainly, had he failed, his faith in himself might well have been shattered.

The Wizard smiled. Faith. It was on faith that they would have to allow Aragorn this chance. Faith that he could do as he believed he could and Faith that Legolas was not yet past all hope.

When Elrond looked to him for some notion of how they should proceed, Gandalf rose and made his way to stand in front of Aragorn."What did you see, Estel? Why do you think you might help him where your father could not."

He listened carefully to the Ranger's words, and weighed them against what he knew. Smiling, he realized that Eru had blessed him yet again, and he offered a silent prayer of gratitude. For Aragorn to know so much, to be so sure

"I believe you can." Gandalf looked around at those surrounding Legolas. "We have little choice in the matter. The poison in Legolas' wound will take himand quickly. His only chance to survive is to restore his elven qualities, for the healing powers of an elf would not be as threatened by this as a human." The Wizard paused and looked at Galadriel. A faint nod and a fainter hint of smile from the Lady of Light told him that she quite agreed with him.

He looked to Thranduil. "If Aragorn can do this, Legolas will survive. If he has not the skill we all hope he possesses" he paused and shook his head, a look of insurmountable grief on his face. "The Greenleaf will fall."

Thranduil nodded, but appeared incapable of any other response.

Gandalf smiled reassuringly and turned to Aragorn. "There is no time to waste. I will keep your actions secret. None but those here will see or understand what you are doing. No observer, no matter how powerful, no matter how distant or how near, will see what you do. Whatever you intend, do it now."

Aragorn nodded and dropped to his knees by Legolas' side.

Aragorn laid a hand upon his friend's brow, and took Legolas' slender hand in his own. Aglarelen looked into the Ranger's eyes, and seeming to find whatever he sought, nodded, and stepped aside, though he did not move far.

Aragorn knew it took effort for Aglarelen to remove himself from his brother's side, and he was grateful for the confidence in his own insistence that he could help. He leaned in closer to Legolas, and whispered his friend's name. Then, he closed his eyes, and searched for the connection they had made before.

Legolas had been surprised by the bite of the arrow. His only thought was that he was glad to have saved his friend. He listened to the arguments that raged on above him and around him with a strange, growing detachment that seemed to increase as the pain did. He felt his brother's hand in his own, and he tried to squeeze back reassuringly, but just then a wave of pain hit him and he clutched frantically at his brother, unable to breathe, unable to open his eyes. He felt himself curling inward, trying to hide his pain and yet also trying to ride it.

That he would die didn't seem to trouble him. He knew that it should, buthe felt numb. He felt nothing. His head felt as though it was no longer part of his body. As he lay there, with his eyes finally open, he tried to move, to join in the conversation he felt certain must be about him. He rolled slightly to his left, but could not remain in the position for longer than a moment. His brother leaned closer to him and spoke in a reassuring tone, but Legolas could not make out the words. Exhaustion, or perhaps the poison of the orc arrow, was taking him.

Lost in his thoughts, the real world seemed to slip from his grasp. He felt cold, alone, but oddly not the slightest bit concerned about his solitude. A fog came over his thoughts and he could see nothing from deep within its caress. He could no longer feel the touch of his brother's hand. The poison

"Legolas! Legolas can you hear me?"

The voice was familiar, soothing somehow.

"Aragorn?" He whispered the name, and raised his eyes. He waswhere was he? He stared in consternation at the walls that surrounded him. He had been in the forest, on the groundthere had been an arrowit was going to hit Aragornwhere was he?

Aragorn's voice came to him, and with it his numb certainty that he would die returned to him, only for him to scoff at himself for believing such a thing. Aragorn's voice kept repeating that he must live, that he would live. How could he not believe the words of this man, this Ranger who had come to be like a brother to him?

He was hurt. He had been hit by an orc arrow, but surely that was not what had caused this strangewhere was he? He could not understand! It felt as though something blocked his memory. Something made it difficult for him to organize his thoughts. Something hindered his recovery, and kept him from answering Aragorn.

Rage built inside him as he fought to speak, to call out to his friend and make Aragorn understand where he was, but he could not speak above a whisper. What devilry was this?

"Aragorn" He spoke softly, and he heard Aragorn stop calling to him. For a moment, he worried that Aragorn had left him, and the depth of his own despair surprised him. Then he heard his friend's voice, questioning, uncertain

"Legolas? Can you hear me?"

A pounding came like fists against a wall again and again. Feebly, Legolas turned his head hoping to see what was happening.

"Aragorn" The pounding ceased.

"LegolasI have found you. I have come to lead you home."

"Mirkwood?" His fuzzy mind could not comprehend what Aragorn meant. He knew he has guessed wrong when he heard amusement in his friend's voice.

"Nay, Legolas. Not Mirkwood. I am here to show you how to come back to usto come back to yourself."

Legolas' head was pounding and the muscles of his back throbbed. "You make no sense." His exasperation was as apparent as Aragorn's amusement.

"Legolas" Aragorn's voice was all seriousness now, and there was something compelling to it, something that drew Legolas to it as a moth to a flame. He was being drawn from the darkness towardshope. "The walls you see are some spell. They were put around the very heart of youof your elvishness. You alone can tear them down. You alone can restore yourself."

Legolas frowned. "What are you saying? I have not lost my elvishness at all? That cannot be so. I have" Legolas' strength was fading. It was getting quite difficult to speak. "I am gladthat Iwas able to saveyou, Aragorn."

"LEGOLAS!"

Aragorn's voice pulled Legolas to him once more. Legolas wanted to put his hands over his ears, but he did not have the strength. "My friend, please, you speak so loudly!"

Aragorn kept speaking. "My friend, your time has not yet come. You have a long road ahead of you. Do you remember your promise? You told me once that you would see me claim my birthright. I would have you by my side if ever I do. You cannot go before your promise is fulfilled. Come back to us, Legolas. You must come back to us."

Legolas did not understand his friend's words. "You say I alone can restore myself, but I see no way to accomplish this."

Aragorn's voice came back to him almost immediately. "Legolas, if I had great need of your help, could you come to me?"

Legolas surveyed the walls around him seeing no way to rip through them. Before he could say so, Aragorn's voice, more urgent, more desperate, came to him.

"Legolas! I need you, my friend, as does your father and your brother. If you do not return to us, I know not how long they will live. I know not how long I will care. Come, Legolas! You can tear down these walls! Help us! Help us to live!"

Legolas' heart skipped a beat. They were dying! His brother, his father, his dearest friend! The orcs must have been more numerous than he'd thought. He'd believed them to be all but defeated when he'd taken the arrow for Aragorn, but he had no recollection of where his father and brother had been. Perhaps they'd seen him fall and had run to his aid! Perhaps they had engaged the enemy half-mad with concern for him! What had he done?

He could not let them leave him now! He had to be with them. If their wounds were bad enough to take their lives, he would see them soon in Mandos' Hall, but if there be some way to spare them that, to help them cling to their lives in Middle-earth, perhaps they would yet be able to sail to the Undying Lands.

As for Aragorn, his friend had a destiny that could not be denied! He knew not how he knew, but he was certain that Aragorn, son of Arathorn would be the man who would reclaim Gondor. Aragorn could not be allowed to give up that claim. No, Aragorn's misguided loyalty had him casting aside the sacrifice Legolas had made on his behalf.

The Prince could not allow that. He had to get to Aragorn! He had to reach his father and his brother. Without being aware that he had done anything, Legolas soon realized the walls, strong and obsidian, were shaking. Mildly at first, the tremors only increased. The more certain he became that he had to help his family, his friend, the more fiercely the world he occupied began to shake itself apart. He heard Aragorn's voice call to him again, and he replied hoping he could be heard.

Aglarelen stared at Aragorn. The human had gone as still as stone, and just as gray.

His brow was creased with concentration and his hands–one still on Legolas' brow and the other holding Legolas' hand–shook as though with overexertion or anticipation. Whatever the man was doing, it seemed to produce no change in Legolas.

The Crown Prince spared a glance at his father and was sorry he had. The fear on his father's face was a surprise, though it probably shouldn't have been. Legolas' passing had been something they had both feared when Mirkwood's Queen had departed her realm forever. Having won the battle to keep him safe and whole all this time made the thought of losing him all the worse.

Aglarelen placed his hope in Aragorn. He laughed wryly at that thought. All of his hope for his brother's life rested in this one man. This Ranger. This human child that Lord Elrond seemed to have named rightly. If Aragorn–if _Estel_ managed this, he would offer his unfailing loyalty to the man.

He watched Aragorn unblinkingly as the human moved his head slightly closer to Legolas. The man's eyes were closed as though he looked inward, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. Aglarelen had never seen such a healing. He knew many healers could impart part of their own strength to those they tended, but this seemed to be more than that.

Much morebut would it be enough? Would this save his brother from the grievous wound? Would it somehow restore him to health and to himself? Aglarelen looked more closely at Leoglas. He stared at those unseeing eyes, the blond hair, every curve of his brother's face, as though afraid he might be robbed of the very memory of it. He recalled Legolas' anxiety and sorrow when he'd revealed that he could no longer recall their mother. Her face, her voice, her touch were to Legolas now no more than a vague dream.

Aglarelen had offered what he could, describing her to him, and trying to paint a picture with his words that would somehow help Legolas keep a picture of her in his heart. He knew he had not been entirely successful, but the attempt had brought the brothers even closer together–a feat he would have insisted was impossible.

Sorrow filled his heart at the thought of losing Legolas and he did the only thing left to him. His heart was filled with thoughts of Legolas as he pleaded with Eru to spare his brother.

Elrond gazed worriedly at his youngest son. Elladan and Elrohir flanked their father offering quiet strength and reassurance, for which Elrond was grateful beyond measure, but his fear or Aragorn did not lessen.

He knew Estel had to try this, but he worried just the same. Estel was young, untried and untested in these ways. If Legolas' emotions or his hurt overwhelmed Estel's limited control, both patient and healer would be lost. The thought struck Elrond in the heart. He could only imagine the pain the reality would inflict.

He glanced at Gandalf who stood near to Aragorn and Legolas, as though to offer aid if it prove necessary. Gandalf's concern was as apparent as Elrond's though the Grey Wizard's face seemed preoccupied. His concentration seemed focused on the two huddled at his feet. As Elrond watched Gandalf, he was surprised to see Galadriel and Celeborn join him. Celeborn's attention was focused on the pair as was Gandalf's, but Galadriel'e eyes scanned the skies around them. No, that wasn't so, Elrond realized as he took a step closer. Galadriel looked skyward, but her eyes were distant, glazed slightly as though she was searching for something that sought to remain hidden.

Elrond was about to join her, when Aragorn stirred. He hadn't moved in some minutes, and the suddenness of it surprised Elrond. It wasn't until he came to kneel by Aragorn's side thinking his son needed some assistance that he realized why Aragorn moved. Legolas had begun to tremble, very slightly, to be sure, but the effect was breaking Aragorn's concentration. "Estel?" He whispered the name, not wanting to startle Aragorn.

When the man did not respond, Elrond looked up at Gandalf. The Grey Wizard spared no time for an explanation. Instead he held his staff aloft speaking a spell in a tongue so ancient, Elrond himself had only a vague knowledge of it. Before he'd spoken half the spell, Galadriel joined him and the two spoke in unison, voices growing stronger and louder with each word they uttered.

Elrond looked to his son. Fine beads of perspiration had broken out on Aragorn's forehead, and his lips moved constantly and silently in a litany only he knew. Legolas' tremors increased and he was beginning to breathe erratically. Elrond turned back to his son and, as the Lord of Imladris watched, Aragorn's eyes fluttered open.

"Estel!" He placed a hand on his son's arm and Aragorn, utterly spent, offered a weary smile.

"Ada, it is not doneI must..." His words were softer than any whisper, and he fell forward in exhaustion before he could say more. Elrond's strong arms held his son and eased him to recline upon a cloak Elladan had set down without his father's awareness.

Elladan questioned his father. "Ada, is he well?"

Elrond placed his hand upon his youngest son's brow and in a moment nodded. "I do not know." He turned to Gandalf. "He said he was not done. If there is indeed more to do...

Thranduil had already reached his son's side and Aglarelen was next to him. "Help Legolas! Elrond, is there nothing you can do?"

Elrond looked at Legolas and, passing Aragorn to Elladan, he went to the young prince's side. His tremors were lessening, but his pallor was gray. He glanced grimly at Thranduil. "I will do what I can"

"Nay, Ada. I am well."

Elrond glanced behind him in surprise to see Aragorn struggling to sit up as Elldan tried to keep him still. He was about to tell Aragorn to be still, when he saw the look in his young son's eyes. Determination, yetsomething moreintangible, kingly

Elrond's eyes locked with Aragorn's, but when he spoke his words were for Elladan. "Help Estel, Elladan. Bring him here."

Elladan did not hide his surprise, but did as he was told, and Elrond and Elladan soon had Aragorn positioned next to Legolas. Elrond did not let go of his son. He knew Aragorn's strength was waning. He would offer his own.

Saruman knew his spell was in danger of breaking. It was a minor thing that he did when casting each spell that caused it to resonate within him whenever its hold on Saruman's hapless victim was shattered or whenever the victim died.

He could tell the not-elf was struggling against the imprisonment of his soul, and the White Wizard could not help but wonder how the stupid creature had gotten that far. Elves were not bright. Oh, they had some skill, especially in forging blades, making music, and in some rudimentary healing techniques, but they could not compare to the might of the Istari. These Firstborn had taken a unique hold on Eru, and indeed on the Valar, because of their beauteous perfection, but in the end, their wills were weak.

Saruman knew there was little to gain by keeping his spell intact, but he could not release this fairest of fair creatures without a fight. He had so longed to see its light shine within Orhanc's deepest dungeons. What an orc he might have made! What a fine experiment he could have begun!

Even with his hold on the elf breaking, he could not resist. He reached out, speaking the familiar words of the curse in the Black Speech. He could not see the wayward voyagers because of whatever warding spell the Grey Wizard had cast, but he could still touch the mind of the one would-be elf upon whom he still had a hold, however tenuous.

The White Wizard closed his eyes concentrating on the heart of the matter. He smiled, and it only made his haggard face seem older, crueler, but he felt his grip tightening upon the young Prince. A surge of pride washed over the Istar. He would taste at least this minor victory and then he would begin to work upon his next one.

To Be Continued


	32. part 32

Once more I ask you all to forgive the unforgivable delay. My muse took a powder and I was unable to resurrect any coherent plot. I am back on track and working on the next installment even as you read this.

I will leave replies to all reviews in my next chapter. Thank you so much for your patience.

Encroaching Darkness part 32

By Ecri

Elrond's eyes did not stray from his son's face. He concern, nay, his fear for Aragorn as well as for Legolas seemed a palpable presence that overwhelmed all of his senses. For a single moment he'd thought them both dead before he realized that they both drew breath. He had only assumed they had not for they breathed shallowly and held his attention so stringently that the moments between breaths seemed 10 times their true length.

He tried to gauge Aragorn's progress and Legolas' condition, but neither was apparent. The Lord of Imladris felt Thranduil's presence behind him, and he could not help but imagine what the King of Mirkwood might be enduring. If the situation had been reversed, if Aragorn was near death and Legolas his only hope for survival, how, he wondered, would he have behaved? Would he be even fractionally as noble as Thranduil now seemed, his proximity to his eldest son notwithstanding, Thranduil remained both nearby yet somehow removed from the proceedings. His eyes were staring at the pale visage of the young Prince, yet they were glazed, unseeing. Elrond was certain Thranduil must be deep in prayer to Iluvatar. He also knew that, should Legolas lose his life, Thranduil would lose all interest in living.

Elrond reached a hand toward Aragorn, yet stayed it before he could touch the young Ranger. He could not interfereyet. The shock could well be too much for someone as untrained and inexperienced in the healing arts as Estel.

He would remain ready to assist if Estel called to him, but that was all he could do, and that, he realized was what made the waiting so interminable.

He saw Gandalf from the corner of his eye and he called to the Wizard, his voice the slightest of whispers. "Mithrandir, do you knowcan you sense any improvement?"

Gandalf seemed not to hear the Elf–his eyes focused on nothing. A moment after Elrond had given up on receiving a reply, the Wizard answered. "The battle is fierce and most difficult for our young friends." He turned to face Elrond and the Elf could see a hint of a smile gracing the wizened visage. "Yet it is not yet lost. There is a chanceif they do not take too longand if their strength holds"

"Strength?" Elrond shook his head. "Mithrandir, neither of them is strong at the moment. Their injuries"

"Affect only their physical strength, Lord Elrond. The strength I speak of is strength of another kind."

Elrond nodded unsure if he were the least bit reassured before turning to stare once more at the two friends as they continued to struggle for their lives.

Gandalf did not mention his concerns. He could not give voice to such things with Elrond and Thranduil so close. They were fathers and neither would hear his words with an unbiased ear, but rather with a father's desperate heart.

There was more going on here than even Elrond realized. Yes, this was a test of Estel's hoped-for abilities, for if the hands of the King were the hands of a healer, then the young man must learn to use those hands–and wisely.

If he were not, if he did not possess the ability–well, it might not mean that he was not destined to take the throne of Gondor, but then again, it might.

Gandalf reached out with his mind, casting again the spell that would protect them from prying eyes. He felt a–scrutiny–that he neither liked nor could name. Someone was watching, or trying to watch. He did not believe that it was Sauron, but the Dark Lord had many minions. It could be anyone. It was likely, the Grey Wizard thought, that there were many who worked for Sauron unnoticed and masquerading as friends, but if he were to consider such a thing, he would spend the rest of his days wondering whom could be trusted.

He was vaguely aware of a question being directed at him, and he turned his eyes to the source. Seeing The King of Mirkwood's questioning gaze, he wished he could be reassuring. "They need time, Thranduil. They need more time."

Thranduil nodded. "What are they doing? What is Estel doing to save my Greenleaf?"

Gandalf cast his own worried gaze on the pale Prince, Gandalf spoke in a whisper, unconcerned with who might or might not hear his words. "A battle is being waged. A fierce battle–and the battleground is Legolas' mind."

He noticed neither that his words had been heard nor the effect they had had on the King of Mirkwood and the Lord of Imladris.

"Aragorn?" Legolas called to his friend as the walls around him trembled violently. He cast a worried glance upwards searching for some clue as to how high the walls might be and what might fall from their battlements, but he saw only darkness. "Estel!" He called again. He heard no reply. "ESTEL!" He cried so loudly a great crack appeared in the wall surrounding him, and he took a step backward wary of falling debris.

"Legolas!" Aragorn's voice reached Legolas and the Prince, in his relief, raced up to the wall not caring for the danger.

"Estel!" He called out in joy to his friend. "Do not stand close to the walls! They are falling!" He heard a soft chuckle and smiled to himself at the sound.

"Well I know it, Legolas! I only wish to help you tear them down all the quicker!"

Legolas heard in his friend's voice the desire for him to be free, and his own desire to see his friend nearly overwhelmed him. "My friend, the walls" he wanted to know what he could to tear them down all the quicker, but his friend didn't give him the chance.

"You must understand, Legolas, that I am here to lead you out, but you must want to come with me. The walls are yours to tear down! Remove them in any way that seems best to you."

Legolas looked doubtfully at his prison. Even as he did, he felt a strange darkness creeping toward him. He whirled to look behind him, but the darkness there was so complete that he could not even see shadows.

"Estel?" Legolas called in a whisper unsure if he called his friend or commanded himself to have hope in the face of the terror that now gripped him.

There was no reply.

Galadriel sat at the foot of a tree. Her eyes were closed and there was not the slightest hint of tension in her face, but Celeborn knew the turmoil of her thoughts. Gracefully, he seated himself beside her and slipped his hand into hers with a touch so light, that none but his wife could even have felt it. He waited lifting his own gaze to the soft canopy of branches through which stars would peek through as though to see what went on below them.

In a few short moments, he heard her speak plainly, though she had not spoken aloud. Her voice came directly to his mind from hers.

__

The battle goes poorly.

Celeborn considered this. _Perhaps Estel merely musters his strength._

When Galadriel did not reply right away, Celeborn leaned closer to his wife taking in the calm, almost serene arrangement of her features. Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned to him, her beauty still–after all this time–catching his breath in his throat. "My love," she said softly, her eyes sad. "He is too young. The skills could be his one day, but his heart is heavy with the burden of a promise being broken."

"What promise?"

She smiled, but somehow it made her seem sadder. "His vow to save his friend. He fears he is unable. He fears he will lose Legolasand though he has faced loss before, he cannot fathom the loss of one such as Mirkwood's Prince."

"Nor can any of us," Celeborn whispered. He searched her face for some sign of hope. "Is there something we might do to help him?"

Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side as she considered his question. "There is little we can do, butwe might share our strength with the young one."

Celeborn nodded. "Let us begin."

They both closed their eyes and leaned back against the tree drawing strength from it even as it, sensing their need, drew strength from the earth so that it might supply them all they might need. The trees nearby, having already begun to grieve the passing of a Wood Elf Prince swayed slightly offering strength of their own to their comrade and, in turn, to Galadriel and Celeborn.

The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood sensed what was happening and offered thanks even as they drew on what was offered and sent it to Estel.

Celeborn, his hand still holding lightly to Galadriel's, poured his heart and soul into the link between them, as Galadriel directed more than they could spare to the young human ranger who held a Prince's life in his hands.

Thranduil sat by his son though he did not see him. Mirkwood's King held his eyes tightly clenched his hands clasped in supplication until the knuckles went white and the fingers grew numb. He had said every prayer he knew so many times the words had ceased to have meaning, and his thoughts were held thrall by the one repeating, beseeching word_please please please_

He knew desperation when he felt it, and it had engulfed him. He wished to be strong for Aglarelen, but he could no longer find a way to function. Aglarelenit seemed his memories of Legolas were intertwined with images of his oldest and youngest sons. Aglarelen teaching Legolas how to fight with a sword, how to fletch an arrow, and how to appease an angered father when some trick or other went wrong

His precious Greenleaf had somehow always seemed borrowedsomehow temporaryas if he were so near to elvish perfection that he could not remain long in this world. Thranduil had always assumed it would merely mean that Legolas would retreat to the Undying Lands before any of his brothers, yet, Legolas' love of Mirkwood, indeed, of Middle-earth, had been unequaled. Thranduil had always believed that Iluvatar held some special task for his Greenleaf. Could it be that his existence itself had been that task? Could it be that Legolas had been allowed so short a life by Elvish standards because it would loosen the hold of Middle-earth upon the ruling family of Mirkwood? What purpose could that serve?

Thranduil knew his mind was racing through illogical courses in a fear-driven attempt to make sense of the insensible or to distract him from his own growing grief.

He felt a hand, warm and gentle, upon his shoulder. He looked up into the concerned and questioning glance of his eldest son.

"Ada"

He said no more with words, but his eyes were eloquence itself.

Thranduil sighed and placed his own hand upon his son's, which still rested on his shoulder. "I will be well, Aglarelen, as soon as" He faltered.

Aglarelen nodded. "As will I, Ada."

Thranduil opened his mouth to speak again, to offer some word of comfort to his son, but he could not find the words. Desperation, grief, anger, and fear warred for a hold over him, and, unable to withstand it a moment longer, Thranduil weeped for his youngest child as his oldest clung to him.

Aragorn had heard Legolas calling his name, but he could not spare a moment to answer. He knew what he had to do though he knew not _how_ he knew. Putting that puzzling thought aside, he wondered why he felt so _unable_ to do it.

There was a part of him, ferocious, almost feral, that wished nothing more than to tear savagely at the walls that surrounded his friend. He knew Legolas–in all his Elvishness–would return to them if only he–Estel, nay, Aragorn–could lead the way back.

His strength had failed him. He had used what reserves he had to reach this point, to find a way _into_ Legolas' mind, and to reach the walls. He did not know the way out! He did not know if he could make Legolas–who had suffered so much on this journey already–want to return. What could he offer when the safe haven of Mandos' Hall awaited the sundered elf? Of course, Legolas was human. Would the Halls be waiting for him? It was too much for him. He could not think.

A surge of certainty hit him squarely in the chest, more accurate than an orc arrow, and more expedient in its effects. He felt a burst of energy even as he knew that he could help Legolas find a reason to continue. He could find a way to make Legolas desperate to return to his family and friends.

"Legolas! Come! Tear down the walls!" He called loudly, more loudly than was strictly necessary, and he infused his words with every ounce of command he would ever muster even as a King.

"I cannot, Estel!" Aragorn heard the frustration choked in Legolas' voice and, though the walls shook, they crumbled slowly.

"Legolas, please, I cannot remain here, yet I cannot leave you. I came to lead you home. If you cannot go, then I cannot go"

"Estel! Leave me! I will follow in time."

"No, my friend, I cannot leave you. I am afraid you must lead me back if I am to return to myself at all." Not strictly true, perhaps, but essentially true. Estel would not find a life worth living if he returned without his friend, and he feared Legolas might be trying to trick him into leaving so that he might let go of his tenuous grip on the world he'd left behind.

Aragorn projected an image toward Legolas hoping it would penetrate the walls. It was an image of his grieving friends and family, some dying of grief, others departing for the Undying Lands, and Estel himself growing reckless and foolhardy in his attempt to deal with a too soon departed Elf.

"Legolas, my friend, you are whole behind these walls. You are not sundered. You have your Elvish senses. You have never lost them entirely. They were hidden from you behind these walls–you were hidden from you–but you can come back if you choose. Do not make me wait too long my friend, for my strength is lacking."

Legolas heard his friend's words and could not bear it. Had Estel come for him only to lose himself? He could not allow such a sacrifice! Estel had a destiny, a future greater than any Legolas could achieve. If one of them must be left behind to–die–he thought the word, and in that instant it somehow lost its power. Death, even a human death, unknown to him and his kind, was not so awful–especially if he should die in saving another. That was why he had taken the arrow for Estel, was it not?He had to admit to himself that, though saving his friend had been foremost in his mind, it had also occurred to him that this was a more noble end than most that he had imagined when he had first learned of his strange affliction. Not that he had sought the arrow merely to end his life. Nay, he could not have done such a thing. His life was a gift from Iluvatar, and it was not his right to return the gift–to throw it back at Eru as though it were something unwanted and unappreciated.

Proving himself, however, had made it easier than it should have been to be reckless. He had known that many around him had treated him as though he were made of glass when they had learned that he had lost his Elvish qualities. It had not, he was sure, been a conscious decision. They could not help it. In response to their protectiveness, he had become more willing to take risks, to seem as much the warrior as he had been before.

Foolish as he felt about it now, he could not change it. Whether out of a desire to prove himself, to kill himself, or to protect his friend, he had taken that arrow. Even as he stood behind these walls wondering what had happened, he could feel the life leeching from him. He felt weak, unsteady, even lightheaded, as the orc poison and blood loss stole Iluvatar's gift from him.

"Legolas"

Estel's voice sounded weak to Legolas' ears and that was what spurred him forward. Estel would not forfeit his life–his future, his kingship, Arwen, and whatever might issue from the union of Elrond's daughter and the King of Gondor!

Without warning, the walls began to crumble. Great sections would either disappear outright or tumble to the ground and break apart throwing up an obsidian cloud. In moments, the wall was down.

Estel stepped forward through the cloud of dust a smile upon his face. "I knew you would come out if you thought you needed to save me."

"Youwere in no danger?" Legolas was both relieved and slightly irritated.

Estel laughed. "Nay, my friend. I am well, though we have been here much too long. I do grow weary."

"Then we should not keep you here. Come, let us return to our families." Legolas cast a last look at the remains of the towering walls, the debris from which was even now evaporating like a mist leaving not a trace that it was once there.

The Prince wondered what could have caused the darkness to seem to be creeping toward him while he had been behind those walls. He sensed no danger any longer, though, as the last of the walls had fallen, he had thought he'd heard an anguished cry. At the time, he'd thought it to be Estel.

"Estel, did you cry out when the walls came down?" He looked at his friend, but he did not need to hear his reply. The answer was plain upon his face.

Estel's brow was creased and he wore a frown. "Nay, Legolas. Why did you hear something?"

Legolas shrugged it off. "It is of no matter, Estel. Come, let us returnlead me where you will."

Estel's only reply was a grin.

Saruman's eyes snapped open as the not-elf broke through his spell reversing the curse. How it could be so, he could not fathom. The elf was young by elven standards and not nearly strong enough to defeat one of Saruman's spells. How, then, had he done it? How was it possible?

He had felt another presence there within the Prince's mindelusive and distant, as though hiding its essence from observers, though it could not have known he was there. Perhaps one of the elvesbut it had not felt like Galadriel or Celebornthough there had been a hint of them as well. No, this presence was closer to Elrond than to any of the others. Could the Lord of Imladris have found a way to save the Prince?

Elrond was, after all, a healer. Could he have found what he needed? Some spell or plant or treatment that required the afflicted to be near to the Golden wood

Enraged, he swung out an arm scattering the books and papers from his desk. If only he had been able to take the elf when he had first stumbled upon him! He should not have acquiesced so readily to Sauron's wishes! Why had he nothis anger dissipated as rapidly as it had come upon him. This game had had its amusements. He had traveled within a company of elves and they had not suspected. They had even turned to him for answers and for aid.

He did not try to suppress the smirk that came readily to his lips as he recalled that the elves most elite leaders and warriors had been unable to perceive his duplicity.

He would find a chance to claim the young prince someday. It was inevitable. After all, Saruman always got what he wanted.

The White Wizard, much calmed and pleased with himself, returned to his ancient books and his dark thoughts.

Gandalf stood by Galadriel and Celeborn leaning on his staff as the Lord and Lady opened their eyes. He smiled at his friends. "Well done."

Galadriel and Celeborn returned the smile.

Celeborn moved gracefully to his feet and held out a hand to assist his wife. "We felt their return. Are they well?"

Gandalf gestured to the pair who reclined close to their fathers. "Estel is awake, though weak. His exhaustion is considerable. He will need training in his newfound ability."

Galadriel nodded. "Elrond will help him."

"What of Legolas?" Celeborn asked.

"He has not woken yet, but his color has improved, and he has begun to breathe more easily. Elrond says the wound is improved"

"Then he hasfound himself?" Celeborn's joy was obvious.

Gandalf smiled. "We believe he has. Come, you must see for yourself."

The trio arrived at Legolas' and Estel's side, Galadriel's eyes searching the Ranger's for some sign of what he had experienced while Celeborn knelt at Legolas' side assuring himself the Elf Prince was indeed an Elf once more.

Gandalf looked up at the waning starlight and the coming of dawn. He would not have believed that one night could see such horrors and yet such triumph. Eru had a blessed sense of the absurd, surely.

The Wizard did not allow his joy to overtake his own senses, however. He kept his spell in place. Dawn might be coming, but that did not make them impervious to prying eyes. When they safely reached the Golden Wood he might be able to afford some rest. For now–constant vigilance was his personal obsession.

He listened as Galadriel spoke to Aragorn asking what he had done and how he had done it.

"I am sure you know more of that than I do, my Lady." Aragorn spoke earnestly, some surprise evident in his voice and his face.

Galadriel merely smiled, and, without the need to repeat her question, managed to get him to speak again.

Aragorn sighed. "Yes, of course you do, but I suppose I must tell you anyway."

Gandalf listened to the words as the Ranger described what he had seen, heard, and done within the confines of Legolas' mind. When he was done, Galadriel leaned closer to him and took his hand in hers.

"Arwen has chosen wisely. Her heart has led her to a noble man. Your destiny is a great one, Estel. We will discuss it at length one day. For now, you will regain your strength." She released his hand and moved to her husband's side.

Celeborn was speaking softly to Thranduil, and Gandalf could sense the building of bridges between the two.

This, the Grey Wizard noted, as the first light of dawn painted the sky a gold so bright it reflected off the gathered elves increasing their glow and giving them an even more otherworldly appearance than normal.

He glanced at Legolas, held in a gentle embrace by his worried father. Aglarelen hovered nearby, peering from time to time at Legolas' face. As Gandalf watched Aglarelen, he saw the oldest Prince of Mirkwood inhale sharply. Gandalf turned his attention to Legolas. He smiled then.

"There," He said gesturing to Legolas. "That is the proof you have waited for. He recovers." He smiled as Thranduil, Celeborn and the others saw what Aglarelen had first seen. Legolas breathed evenly, deeply as he slept, and his eyes, blue and beautiful, were open.

The group traveled quickly through the Golden Wood eager to reach Caras Galadhon. Galadriel and Celeborn fell into the rolls of hosts as they directed first their border guards and then others to make up sleeping places for the guests and take the injured to their healers. Food was offered and clothes were mended and soon the guests were well ensconced within the Golden Wood.

As was usual for that unique dwelling place, time seemed to stretch, to change, and it was impossible to say with any accuracy how much had passed.

Aglarelen stared at his brother's eyes. They had drifted open as Legolas slept. For one heart-stopping moment, Aglarelen had thought perhaps his youngest sibling had passed on towherever it was humans passed tofor he had heard that, in death, a human's eyes remained open resembling elven sleep. That had not been the case, for his brother's chest still rose and fell taking in precious breath. Legolas wasagain!

The Crown Prince cast a glance at the sleeping Ranger. Estel seemed as deeply asleep as Legolas, and neither had awoken since they had reached their destination.

Galadriel had mentioned that they would wake when their healing was done, but Aglarelen, who wanted nothing more that to speak to his brother found this remark unsatisfying. Aglarelen wished to hear his brother's elvish laugher and the sound of his voice raised in elven song. He had begun to worry that his brother would not awaken, and he knew his father shared that concern.He had distinctly heard his father speaking to Elrond in tones meant to be soft and hushed but that were no more so than an orc was pretty.

"Elrond," Thranduil had said, "Surely there must be something you can do!"

Elrond's distinctly impatient tones had replied as politely as possible. "If there were, would I not have done it by now? My son lies in a state similar to yours! Estel has not awakened. Gandalf insists they are merely exhausted"

"It has been days!"

"And it will be days more if that is what they need!" Elrond's voice softened, and Aglarelen was struck by how tired and, he had to say it, scared, the Elf Lord sounded. "Please, Thranduil, I must return to my son as you must return to yours. If I think of some way to aid them, I will come to you. If he worsens in some way, come to me. I can do nothing right now."

Aglarelen could not recall if he had overheard that conversation yesterday or the day before. He had not left his brother's side. He had taken his own meals here. As for sleep, he had not found it necessary. He would not rest until he spoke to Legolas.

He did not realize just how long that would be.

To Be Continued


	33. part 33

Encroaching Darkness part 33

Please see author's notes at end of chapter.

By Ecri

Dawn in the Golden Wood was always spectacular. The growing light of the rising sun struck the golden foliage of the Mallyrn casting the world in an ethereal glow. Gandalf soaked in the pleasant sight and the equally pleasant warmth as he pondered what had happened to the young elf prince and the younger ranger.

It could not be coincidence, for Gandalf knew there was no such thing. Coincidence was merely a word mortal men used to explain away things they did not wish to examine too closely. Something else had happened here, but try as he might, he could not unravel it.

Oh, he knew some spell had been cast on the Prince of Mirkwood, but who had cast it? There was no way for him to learn that secretat least not until the Prince and the Ranger awoke from their deep slumber. Even then, it was unlikely that the victims themselves knew much about it. He clung to the hope that they might have some clue from which Gandalf could begin to reconstruct what happened, but he did not believe they would awaken with the name of their enemy on their lips.

Neither had stirred though they had been carried and lifted and moved across the ground and then up into the great Mallorn in which Galadriel and Celeborn and other elves of Lothlorien made their home. Each rested now, father and brother—or in Estel's case, brothers—at their sides.

The Wizard could tell each father was still concerned and likely would be until their sons sat up and declared themselves fit. He allowed himself a small, knowing smile. Likely the worry would last much longer even than that.

He put the thoughts aside and again pondered who might have cast such a spell on Legolas. Not to mention the other spellthe one that had so affected Glorfindel and Elrohir. That each of them had been affected while they sought a cure for Legolas' affliction was entirely too suspicious for the Grey Wizard's liking.

Not to mention the slumber most of the elves, save for Elrond, had fallen into when Gandalf had first discovered them outside that cave

He thought to speak to Saruman of it, but something told him he should not yet leave Lothlorien. Perhaps once Aragorn and Legolas awoke he would find reason to pry himself away from the hospitality he enjoyed here, but he could not do so until he was certain Prince and Ranger were truly recovered.

As he watched the sunrise, he felt a presence behind him, but as it did not announce itself, the Wizard contented himself with the knowledge that it could not be an emergency. After several moments, the presence stirred and moved to sit beside him.

Without turning to look at his companion, Gandalf spoke to him in soft tones. "What brings you to my side this fine morning, Haldir?"

Haldir nodded in acknowledgement to the Wizard as Gandalf finally turned to face him.

"I have felt a darkness growingit has been much in my mind since the orcs attacked us"

"And you wish to know what I might know?"

Haldir nodded, his eyes focused on Gandalf.

"I don't know anything at allor at least, I don't know anything about this particular topic."

"That is no comfort, Mithrandir."

"Nor is it meant to be. Haldir, a darkness is drawing near. It touched some of us in these last weeks, and we would do well to be on our guard against it. Now, what that darkness might be, or what—or who—might be behind it, I cannot say." He grew pensive and sat staring at the same distant spot on the horizon that had captured his attention earlier. A smile graced his features. "There is one thing of which you should be certain. We do not abandon Hope and Hope does not abandon us. Forthough we are able to see the darkness, that is only because we can see the light."

Haldir nodded once more, but frowned. "Wizard's riddles will not save us from attack, Mithrandir."

Gandalf chuckled. "No, they won't, but they hold enough truth to be of comfort to those who may understand."

Haldir paused, thinking over these words before shaking his head. "I am not comforted."

"You may yet be, Haldir. In the days to come, you will be called upon to stand against this encroaching darkness. Be ready." He stood slowly. "I must go and check on our patients."

"Then I bid you farewell, Gandalf." Haldir nodded to the wizard before departing.

Gandalf wished he could have offered Haldir some words of greater comfort, but he could not offer what he did not have, and he was not here for that at any rate. His thoughts returned to Aragorn and Legolas. That the two were alive at all was cause for celebration. That Legolas had had his elven nature restored to him had actually caused Thranduil to weep.

Gandalf recalled the Crown Prince of Mirkwood's sharp inhalation of breath as he saw how Legolas had slept with his eyes open. The sound had drawn his own attention, and that of the King. Thranduil, upon gazing at his son's open eyes, clutched the young elf to his chest and sobbed into his hair.

None present had desired to draw the King from his young son's side, so Thranduil had been left alone with Legolas as he and Aglarelen rejoiced.

That had been some time ago, and neither Legolas nor Aragorn had awakened. They had been taken to Caras Galadhon with all solemnity, but the hope that had sustained the group waned as each day passed. Gandalf had examined the pair, and believed them to be in a deep restorative sleep, but that reassurance did not appease Thranduil. The King wanted his son awake. He wanted to speak to the elf, to have his embrace returned, and to hear the sound of his son's elven laughter where before now he had heard human laughter.

Gandalf could not tell the King when he would hear that laughter again, and reminding the King that at least his son had been restored to himself did little to appease him. Lately, he stormed around Calas Galadhon like a rampant orc scowling at everyone and snapping at any who dared speak to him save Aglarelen.

Aglarelen shared his father's concern over his brother's condition, but Gandalf sensed something elsea strong faith that Legolas would recover. It was, perhaps, not something of which the Crown Prince was aware, but it radiated off of him and, Gandalf was certain, it was this that calmed Thranduil whenever the pair spoke.

Aragorn's condition was something else entirely. Similar, perhaps, in that Gandalf felt certain the young Ranger was gaining strength, but Aragorn's condition most likely stemmed from the expenditure of energy, strength, and emotion as he had drawn his friend from the influence of that spell.

The Ranger was, as Elrond had said, not experienced in this form of healing, and indeed, it might have been a dangerous thing had Aragorn not been who he was.

The hands of a King

Gandalf stopped himself from completing the thought. His own long held belief—or perhaps wish was a better word for it—that Aragorn could be the one who would reclaim the throne of Gondor was irrelevant. Though Gandalf had long watched the Ranger, had seen qualities in the young man that the Wizard believed proved Aragorn superior to his ancestors.

The Wizard knew of Elrond's love for the human. Indeed, no one who knew both Elf Lord and Ranger could be unaware of their affection for each other. Elrond loved Aragorn like a son. It was simply the thought of losing both his son and his daughter that haunted him.

That fear had likely caused Elrond to shy away from anything that might prove Aragorn was indeed the future King of Gondor and not simply one in a long line of potential sovereigns.

The likelihood that Aragorn was the King, and that he could actually take the throne were two entirely different subjects. Aragorn would need help, and Gandalf had long felt it fitting that he and Legolas were such fast friends. They each needed the sort of looking after that only the other could provide.

Gandalf made his way toward the rooms the Ranger and Prince shared. Galadriel and Celeborn had believed, and Gandalf and Elrond had agreed, that the proximity of the two would be helpful to their recovery.

Now, seeing family and friends clustered around the pair, Gandalf knew such support and love would be a balm to the two, and perhaps would coax them to emerge from whatever save have to which they had each retreated. He could offer little but his presence and vigilance for now, but he would be nearby if he were needed.

Elrond stared down at Aragorn wondering what he could do to aid his son. He saw no injury. In truth, Aragorn and Legolas both appeared to be in a deep slumber. It was the length of the slumber that concerned them. It had been much longer than any healing trance that Elrond had ever entered—or seen, for that matter.

He recalled Thranduil's accusations that Elrond had not properly schooled his son to use his skills as a healer. It had come well after the Lord of Imladris had hurled the same accusations at himself. If he had been less reticent to see Aragorn claim his birthright, if he had been a more diligent instructor in the arts of healing, if he had been less inclined to enjoy the unequaled safety of Imladris and had considered the dangers of the life his son had chosen when he became a Ranger

"I see the reproach in your eyes, Ada. Do not believe that you have done wrong. Aragorn and Legolas will return to us." Elrohir reached for his father's hand. The Lord of Imladris smiled and gently squeezed his son's hand in return.

"I cannot help but consider my mistakes"

"You made no mistakes, Ada. Aragorn knew what to do quite instinctively. He is a natural healer. The hands of the King"

"Don't." Elrond looked down hoping his son would not see the pain in his eyes caused by those words.

"Ada"

The soft, gentle tone told Elrond that his son had seen it.

"Ada, please, you have known all his life"

Elladan's voice echoed his brother's thoughts even as they completed his sentence. "you have known that Aragorn is heir to the throne of Gondor"

Elrond nodded. "Yet being heir to Gondor's throne does not mean he will be the next King. His father was heir to the throne, as was his father. They did not claim the throne. They did not retrieve rule of their lands or their people from the Steward of Gondor" Elrond sighed heavily, something he had learned from his human son, as he gazed at Aragorn's face. To lose himit was something he had long prepared himself to face, yet, for all that preparation, it was something he could not bear. It would be as bad as losing Elladan, Elrohir, or Arwen.

"Ada"

Elrond's heart skipped a beat. That was not the sound of his twin sons. He had seen Aragorn's lips move, though the Ranger's eyes remained closed.

"Estel?" Elrond called softly not noticing that Elladan and Elrohir had turned to face their brother as well.

"Ada!"

Elrond frowned. This sounded like Estel in the grips of a nightmaresome horrific vision that sent fear through his son and into the Elf Lord's heart by way of Estel's voice.

"Estel! I am here. Awake, my son."

Slowly, so slowly that Elrond had nearly convinced himself that he was imagining it, Aragorn opened his eyes. He blinked rapidly in confusion and then a slight smile changed the Ranger into the son of Elrond. "Ada?"

"I am here, Estel, and I am beyond relieved to see that you are, too." He smiled and leaned close enough to touch his forehead to that of the young man who called him father. Pulling back once more, Elrond looked into the now open eyes of his youngest son. "Estel, you did well"

"Legolas!" Estel moved to sit up, but Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir forced him back down again.

"Legolas is an elf once more, but" Elrond cursed himself for pausing as he saw the effect it had on Aragorn. "He has yet to waken, my son. That is all. We await his return as we have awaited your own."

Aragorn settled slightly. Concern shone in his eyes. "How long? Has he shown no sign of waking?"

Elrond related to Aragorn all that had happened since the Ranger had chosen to heal his friend.

Aragorn seemed lost in the words and his brow was furrowed as he considered Elrond's words.

"He will recover, my son. He sleeps as an elf. His eyes are open."

Aragorn smiled slowly at that bit of information. "I'd like to see him."

Elrond shook his head. "You have barely awoken, Estel. Give yourself a chance to heal. You would do well to regain some strength before you try to help him once more."

Aragorn opened his mouth to object, but closed it again as Elrond raised one eyebrow.

Elrond saw in his son's eyes the desire to help Legolas warring with the knowledge that he was indeed too weak to offer any further assistance. Common sense won the day, and Elrond smiled even as he sent Elrohir and Elladan to find their brother something to eat and drink. It would be well if he could encourage Aragorn's strength to return, for he was certain that the man would not wait long before allowing his heart to rule his head.

Galadriel's face was turned up toward the stars, though her eyes were closed. Celeborn watched her from some small distance away wondering what she soughther own inner peace, answers to questions that someone always seemed to put to her, orsomething else entirely.

He often watched his wife. In truth, he was still as enraptured by her beauty as he had been upon their first meeting. His love for her would not diminish. That was as certain as Eru's love for all Arda. He knew they could still be parted for an evil grewDarkness stretched toward all elvendom seeking to destroy all that was good in the world, or, if not destroy, then to pervert Eru's creation.

Orcs were such a perversion, as was this most recent of obstacles. What had befallen Legolas, and later, Elrohir and Glorfindel, and then Aragornwhat they had all endured as they sought to help their friendsthese, too, were perversions. These, too, were the weapons of the enemy.

Galadriel thought it likely that the spies of the enemy, the minions of Mordor, had somehow achieved these blows against them. She was likely right. She usually was and he could not recall a time when she had ever erred when the situation was this dire. He watched her now as she opened her eyes. Without turning from the stars, she called to him.

"Estel awakes."

His heart skipped a beat as he moved closer to her. "What of Legolas?"

Her eyes glazed slightly, but she shook her head. Finally turning to look him in the eye, she spoke in the softest of voices. "He is not yet ready to return to us, though he is not worsening. The Prince marshals his strength for the fight ahead of him."

"What battle must he prepare to fight when he is safely in our realm?"

"The battle of a lifetime requires a lifetime of preparation. The Young One will have little respite from the enemy's attention as the time of Elessar's Trial approaches."

"Trial?"

Her eyes grew sad. "There is the thought in Elessar's mind that he would have this burden belong to another."

Celeborn protested. "He is Isildur's Heir"

She nodded. "And unlike his father and his father's father before him, he cannot seek refuge behind the passing of such a thing to a child he might sire. The war within him will end when he accepts that there is no other for the task. Legolas has helped him see this more clearly than any other."

Celeborn's eyes widened as a sudden insight gripped him. "That is the part Eru has given Legolas."

"Legolas restores Elessar's faith in himself when it wavers. The Ranger has long thought himself unworthy of the great destiny that awaits him. Legolas has helped him see the truth."

Celeborn took her hand in his. "Aragorn's lineage could not persuade him of his worthiness?"

"He fears the stain of Isildur's weakness taints him."

Celeborn's eyes followed his wife's and fell on Eärendil. "There is honor in him, not weakness." He knew, as he reached for his wife's hand, that she agreed with him.

Thranduil watched Elrond's sons leave their human brother's side, and knew at once from their lighthearted tones and easy smiles that Estel was awake. He rose from his youngest son's side, secure in the knowledge that his eldest would watch Legolas. He approached Elrond and spoke.

"Lord Elrond, is Estel well?" He could see it with his own eyes, but dared not begin this conversation by making demands. Aglarelen had convinced him to temper his words, and though he knew it would be difficult with his fear for his son swelling in his throat.

Elrond turned to face the King of Mirkwood. "He recovers, King Thranduil, though he is weak."

"Might hecan he"

Elrond's eyes softened and he held out a hand to the King. "Come and sit with us. I am sure Estel could speak to you of Legolas."

Thranduil did as Elrond suggested. "Estel, does he return to me?"

Aragorn nodded. "It was his intention when we parted."

"Why has he lingered?"

"If he feels as I do, I suspect he is merely spent. He did not sleep well as a human in these last weeks, for theof such slumber, and the images it conjures, troubled him. There is also his injury to consider. The arrow would surely have taken his life" Aragorn's voice cracked, heavy as it was with the emotions of his heart. "It was a grievous wound, and it alone would take some time to heal."

Thanduil nodded. It all made sense, and, even though some part of him argued with him, insisting that Estel was simply giving many reasons because he did not possess the true one, he allowed himself to be comforted by the Ranger's words.

"Then time is what he needs." Thranduil said it with a certainty he did not feel, and found himself oddly heartened by Aragorn's quick agreement.

He glanced at his sleeping son, and hoped the fears in his heart would fall silent.

Legolas dreamed. Images surrounded him, encased him, hemmed him in on all sides and were a strange conglomeration of elven dreams and human nightmares.

He'd been with Aragorn. He was sure of it. His friend had helped himwhat? He shook his head to clear the thought. Where was Aragorn now? He sensed no danger, but could not recall what had happened to his friend. Frustration akin to what he'd felt when he'd lost himselflost his elvish naturesurged through him, but it gave way to surprise and fear as the dark terrors gripped his very soul.

He inhaled sharply, hand reaching automatically for an arrow and bringing his bow up when he saw orcs approaching in greater numbers than he ever could have imagined. He let one arrow fly, but it sailed through the orc as though either the arrow or the orc were insubstantial. The arrow had felt real when he'd released it, so perhaps the orcs were not. That thought both comforted and terrified him. If the orcs were not real, if he could not trust his senses, what was real? What could he trust?

He watched the orcs as they moved, not surprised when they seemed to fade into a mist and were blown away by a breeze. The scene before him shifted and he saw Aragorn. His friend was fighting another horde or orcs, seemingly alone. His hand again reached for an arrow, but before he could fire, he sawhimself. He watched as this other Legolas fired arrow after arrow at the orcs, thrusting one through an orc's throat and taking its life before fitting the same arrow to his bow to kill one at a greater distance.

The image shifted once more and he saw a great stone structure. Elves and menhimself and Aragorn, Haldir, a King of men with a determined yet hopeless look upon his face. Human children clutched swords and shields awkwardly in small hands and sported helms too large for their young heads. All were fighting orcs in greater numbers than even that last horde he'd seen. A cacophonyswords clashing, battle cries, screams of the dyingoverwhelmed him and he turned away, only to seeOrthanc.

Puzzled, he turned around but the stone fortress that had filled his vision a moment ago was gone. He was indeed in Isengard. Orthanc stood tall and ominous before him, the silence of it deafening after the chaos of moments ago.

As he watched, the sky grew dark. Time seemed truncated somehow, and he watched leaves fall from trees while moments later seeing the same trees bud and bloom. The process repeated at such speed, the Elf Prince was almost dizzy. At Orthanc's door, he saw the familiar white-cloaked figure of Saruman and was surprised to find himself suppressing a shudder. He watched a tree fall, cut in its prime, and, as it struck the ground, he heard the forest cry out in anger, and saw trees move as though of their own volition.

Legolas took a step forward, but between the time he raised his foot and placed it down again, the scene had shifted once again. He was in a forest he could not place. It bloomed most beautifully around him, and in the distance, he could hear the sound of Elves singing a song of celebration. He gazed upwards and saw flets scattered through the trees, warm glows of candlelight, and below that, a clearing some distance away that seemed to be filled with dancing elves, and humans, anddwarves?

"Legolas."

He turned as he heard his name wondering if he were about to see himself again, but there before him he saw a sight that made his breath catch in his throat—trapped there no doubt by his pounding heart.

"Naneth?"

The woman smiled and held a hand out to him. He moved to her side at once. She embraced him as though she had never done so before, but there, in her arms, it felt to Legolas as though she had never let goand never would. The intervening years since her death melted away and Legolas was again her child seeking comfort in her arms.

A light, musical sound of laughter reached his ears, and he pulled back slightly from his mother, though not releasing her, to see who it was, though the familiarity of that laugh needed no visual confirmation.

"Lindëriel" he spoke the name as he would have spoken a prayer.

Lindëriel laughed again. "Legolas." She was at his side in an instant embracing him though he was still in his mother's arms.

Tears of joy spilled from his eyes as Legolas returned the embrace. He pulled away again and looked from his sister to his mother. "How"

His mother placed one slender finger across his lips. "We have not much time, my precious son"

"No!" Legolas did not like the sound of that. He could not lose them again!

"Hush, my little Greenleaf. We are messengers. No more. Ilúvatar has sent us to you so that you might understand."

"Then I am a great disappointment, for I understand nothing." Legolas stared intently at his mother as though loath to look away for fear she would disappear.

A gentle smile graced his mother's face. She reached up a hand and brushed a lock of impossibly golden hair from her son's eyes. "You will, my darling. You have a long and lonely road ahead of you. You have a duty, a part in Ilúvatar's song that only you can sing"

Lindëriel laid a hand on her baby brother's cheek. "You must be strong. For himfor the Kingfor his bride"

Legolas shook his head and stared at his sister, the heartbreak of the ephemeral visitation by those he had longed to see again for most of his life making it difficult for him to speak. "I do not understand. I do not want to understand. Do not leave me! Please Lindëriel, Naneth"

His mother kissed his forehead, her own silver-gold tresses obscuring his vision for a moment. "You have an important part to playan important person to protect"

Certainty came as a flash of intuition. "Aragornhe _is_ to claim the throne of Gondor"

"Yes, my son, he is the one for whom all Middle-earth has waited. He has doubts, but these have begun to fall away. You must stay by his side in the battles that lie before him, my sweet Legolas. He will rely on you and you must allow him that."

"I could do nothing else. It is a task I have set for myself Ilúvatar knows this."

"He does not doubt you, Legolas. He wishes to prepare you. Things have been set in motion that he did not intend, and he wishes you to be prepared for the altered road that you must now follow." Legolas' mother turned then to her daughter.

Lindëriel did not hesitate. "Our time grows short, my brother." She smiled sadly as his grip on both sister and mother tightened. "Know that Eru guides you and will be with you and Gondor's King as the days of trial draw near. The path that was meant to be has been altered, but it can still lead to the same destiny. Have faith, Greenleaf"

With those last words, Lindëriel began to fade, to recede somehow from his view, her touch lingering to the last, but growing dimmer until it was gone. He called to her, cried out her name even as he clung with desperation to his mother, knowing she was to be next.

"Hush, my Greenleaf. All may not be as it should be, but it can still be well."

She kissed his forehead once more, and Legolas, clinging desperately to her, his eyes wide in fear that if he so much as blinked she would be gone, found no words within him that could make her stay.

To Be Continued

Author's Note: I'd like to thank you all for your patience. I know this took awhile, and the encouragement of most of you was overwhelming. A special thanks to washow and to catherinexxix. Washow surprised me with some truly encouraging news that inspired me to push to get this chapter done, and catherinexxix sent me many an email reminder urging and almost pleading with me in the sweetest and politest of terms to finish the story.


	34. part 34

See Author's Note below.

Encroaching Darkness part 34

By Ecri

Elrohir held his lips tightly together, looked away and back again, and bit his tongue, but in the end, he was unable to keep his laughter to himself. Aragorn and Elrond stared at him as he held up both hands. "I didn't mean"

"What do you find amusing about your brother's condition?" Elrond asked even though he must have known.

"It's not his condition. It's the two of you" He sputtered for a moment unable to find words, but certain that the Elf Lord and the Ranger must have been aware of how they sounded. "It is almost exactly the conversation you had when last Estel was injured."

"Child-rearing often involves the repetition of simple instructions." Elrond insisted.

Aragorn's eyes widened. "I am no child."

"That is true"

Elrond's admission caused Aragorn to smile for a moment before something inside him reminded him reminded the Ranger that his father would not give in so easily. He did not have to wait long for the qualification.

"Among _men_but you are now among _elves_."

"But"

Elrohir stifled another laugh as he realized Aragorn's inability to speak coincided exactly with Elrond's eyebrow raising.

Aragorn turned to look at Elrohir, then turned back to his father. "Perhaps you should fuss over Elrohir, Ada. He was not himself for much longer than I was unconscious."

Elrohir glared at Aragorn. "Estel"

It was too late. Elrond's concerned gaze shifted to his second son. "Have you felt any ill effects recently, Elrohir?"

Elrohir shook his head. "Nay, Ada, I am fine." He searched his mind to find a way to deflect his father's concern, for truthfully, he had not yet had time to consider what had happened to him. It was at that moment that Glorfindel arrived seemingly intent on speaking to Elrond.

"Elrond"

Elrohir interrupted. "Ah! Glorfindel! Ada, surely you should inquire into _his_ health! He was far more severely affected than I"

Glorfindel glared at Elrohir. "I would not say that." He looked at Elrond. "I am well, Lord Elrond, but I wonder if we are not seeing the signs of some far more calamitous end."

"What end might that be?" Elrond was frowning, and Elrohir could feel his father's concern as well as see it in his face.

Glorfindel seemed hesitant to say, but, Elrohir knew, he would say what he felt needed saying. "I have been speaking to Haldir and to others who fought the orcs with us on our travels here. The orcs are more numerous than we would have supposed, and many seemed to fight with a fervor unmatched." He stopped and Elrohir finally understood, from the glimpse of sympathetic concern in Glorfindel's eyes, what gave the Balrog Slayer pause.

Elrohir cleared his throat. "It is well, Lord Glorfindel. Say what you need to say." Elrohir had guessed the elder elf's mind. He hesitated out of concern to speak of orcs and their habits in front of three elves who had lost one dear to them to orcs. For a moment, memories flooded Elrohir's mind of his motherof the look upon her face, the state of her when he and Elladan had found her, and the nightmare induced screams that had long shattered the peaceful nights of Imladris

He swallowed and nodded encouragingly to Glorfindel, refusing to close his eyes against the images in his mind for fear such an action would stifle Glorfindel.

Glorfindel nodded in return and turned to face Elrond. "Lord Elrond, I know, in light of what Estel has done, that it must have crossed your mind by now that the time we have long awaited and feared since the Last Great Alliance could well be upon us. I say the actions of these orcs, their intensity, their persistence in following us, these things can only foreshadow the growing strength of Mordor."

Elrond shook his head. "The Return of the King need not be predicated by the activity of orcs." He glanced at Aragorn and Elrohir almost gasped aloud to see the sorrow in his father's eyes. He knew that thoughts of Isildur, of Celebrian, of losing any one of his sons, or his daughtereven Elrond's own twin, Elros, the pain of whose passing remained with the elf lordadded to his father's pain.

He watched as his father turned to Glorfindel.

"We will prepare as we always have, but there is little we elves can do in the face of this evil. It comes in the twilight of our time in Middle-earth"

Glorfindel nodded, and Elrohir wondered if the Elf Lord truly agreed or if he merely wished to calm a distraught Elrond.

Aragorn's hand clutched at Elrond's. "Ada" his whisper was soft, but not too soft for Elven ears.

"Estel, you must rest. Do not trouble yourself"

"Ada," Aragorn spoke again, just as softly, but with an insistence that even the Lord of Imladris could not fail to obey.

Elrohir watched in amazement as his father looked into the Estel's eyes, and for a moment, an insane, twisted, topsy-turvy moment, Elrond appeared the younger while in Estel's eyes swam the wisdom of ages. "Ada, even if I am to be Gondor's King, I am not ready to make such a claim. If Mordor's strength is growing, it is infinitesimally. There will be time." Then he spoke more emphatically. "There will be time."

Elrond smiled and squeezed his son's hand, and Elrohir felt Arda shift once more—righting itself—until an older Elrond now appeared to be comforting an Estel suddenly years younger than he'd been a moment before.

Elrohir blinked and shook his head, feeling Elladan's presence at his back and a warm, familiar touch on his shoulder. He reached up, placing his own hand on his brother's and offering it a squeeze before dropping it again to his side.

Elrond, meanwhile, had collected himself and gazed once more at Glorfindel. "Estel is right. There is yet time. We will simply need to be sure that we remain vigilant for any further sign of the Enemy's return."

Elrohir agreed silently with his father.

Thranduil had decided to take Aragorn's return to consciousness as a sign that Legolas would soon return as well. His son was sleeping, or so Gandalf and Elrond insisted. SleepingThranduil gazed at his son's unfocused eyes, relieved beyond measure to see them in the familiar state of elven repose.

Long he had feared his son lost to him. Long he had feared his son would diean elven life cut short through some Darkness a mere King could not fathom. The Darkness of Mirkwood had grown through the centuries, but somehow, Thranduil had told himself that it could not touch Legolas. Legolas, ever laughing, ever smiling, ever singing, his youngest son had managed to find the joy of life even in the darkest corner of Elvendom. He had educated his family—even his father, centuries older than he—in what it meant to be an elfand in what it meant to have faith.

He shook his head slightly willing his tears not to fall. He would not weep. His son would return to him.

Estel had spoken of exhaustion. Thranduil could well believe that Legolas was, as Aragorn had said, spent. The injury alone

Again the King shook his head in an attempt to stop his thoughts from following that thread. He felt a presence by his side and turned to see Galadriel smiling kindly at him. Her smile lit the room as though a second sun had been sent to bring light to those below the canopy of mallyrn.

She reached a hand towards him as she took a seat by his side. "He will return to us."

Thranduil inclined his head slightly. "I do believe that, but I will believe it more completely when I see him awake."

She smiled again, brighter than before, but said nothing more.

Thranduil, still holding her hand, hung his head. "We have not seen eye to eye, you and I, in many years, yetfor what you have done for my son" He looked up now, locking his gaze on hers. "I must thank you. He means the world to me."

"I have long watched this one, King of Mirkwood. Your son has a destiny before him that no one else can fill. He has already fulfilled some small portion of it"

"He has" Thranduil stopped himself. He had not meant to interrupt her. He would not be thought rude in the Lady's own home. Still, her words had surprised him.

She, apparently, took no offence. "We are, all of us, meant to fulfill some purpose. This one has achieved something many would have thought impossible. He has helped you and your family through your grief, for, in your worry for him over his losing mother and sister, you did not give in to a grief that might have taken you otherwise." Again, she smiled. "He has also managed to remind the King of Mirkwood that there is a reason for the battles fought in that dark elven home. He had reminded you of what needs defending and why. He has given you reason not to abandon the task you set for yourself. Mirkwood shall be restored if only so that its King might share it with its youngest prince."

Thranduil did not know how to respond, so he did not. He pondered her wordssurprised by them, yet somehow having suspected such things all along.

A soft sound, like a small gasp, reached his ears. He turned towards it instinctually, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Legolas" His voice was the softest of whispers, but all in the room had heard it. He reached for his son, taking him in his arms even as the others, Aglarelen, Elrond, the sons of Elrondall rushed to his side. "My son" Legolas could barely speak. Parched lips, dry mouth, yet still, the word sounded to Thranduil like the sweetest song to be uttered in praise of Eru.

"Rest, my son." Thranduil, with effort, pulled away allowing him to see his son awake and alive, and quite Elvish. "Rest."

"Ada?" Confusion flitted across the Young Prince's features as his gaze took in his surroundings. His eyes fell then on Galadriel and he moved as though to bow to her, but her hand reached forward to assist Thranduil in restraining him.

"Your father is right, Little Greenleaf. You must rest. We will talk before long." She stood and moved away, giving Aglarelen a chance to reach out to his brother.

Everyone was talking at once, and Legolas was doing his best to understand all the questionseven answer a fewbut he felt disoriented. He did not know how they could have reached Lothlorien without him being aware of it at all. He allowed himself to be hugged and touched and patted on the back. He listened to the happy, relieved laughter that grew in volume around him and tried to recall what had happened.

He remembered a battle, orcsfor a moment fear pounded at his heart, but just for a moment. Lothlorien was safeas safe as Imladris. Where had the orcshe recalled an arrowand seeing it flying straight towards Aragorn. He had taken it himselfhis eyes rested on the bandages on his own body

It all seemed unreal to him, somehow. Like it had happened too long ago to be of concern. There was something else. Something new, yet familiar that reached his ears, but he could not concentrate on it for all the sound of talking and laughter that surrounded him.

Confusion must have shown on his face, for when Elrond leaned closer to offer an embrace of welcome, he frowned. He turned and addressed those around him. "We should leave him with his family. Come, let him rest."

Elrond began to herd the others away, but just as Aragorn was about to move from the elf's side, Legolas shot out a hand to catch his human friend around the wrist. "Estel, I hear it!"

"What do you hear, my friend?"

Legolas smiled. "The trees!"

Thranduil's tear-filled eyes remained on his son as the others stepped away to give the Mirkwood's Royals a chance to celebrate amongst themselves. Legolas weakly raised his arms and his father swept him up once more in a firm embrace.

"Legolas, my son!"

Legolas smiled. "I am well, Ada, if a bit confused."

That stopped Thranduil immediately. "Confused? What is wrong, my son?"

Legolas shook his head. "It is nothing to worry you, Ada. I merely do not recall coming to Lothlorien. It is a journey I am sure I would have savored."

Aglarelen laughed. "If you remembered a journey undertaken while you were asleep I would truly worry for you, brother."

Thranduil nodded, and between the two, they related all the events since the battle to Legolas. Legolas took in his father's words and in those of his brother, but it was the looks upon their faces that moved Legolas to interrupt.

"I am wellI amhealed." He turned excited eyes to his father. "I can hear once more the sweet songs of Arda! I understand the speech of the trees, and I can see as once I did. I am whole again, Ada!"

Thranduil smiled and embraced his youngest son, and Legolas allowed himself the release of laughter, surprising himself with its elvish sound.

He turned then to Aglarelen. _"Gwanurnin, _all is as it should be! Ilúvatar has blessed me! I am quite myself."

Aglarelen threw his arms around his brother even as Thranduil, as though unable to deny the joy of his heart, threw his own strong arms around both of his sons. Laughter and tears mingled with soft words of comfort as they rejoiced in the gifts of Eru.

Aragorn did not need elven hearing to hear much of the rejoicing that went on nearby. He knew his father and brothers heard more than he, but for once, he did not annoy them with pleas to tell him what they heard. His heart was light and his spirit sang.

Legolas was restored.

He wanted to speak to his friend of their experiences for he was by no means certain what Legolas would remember of their time together as they pierced through the bonds the strange curse had clapped tightly onto the elf's soul. He could not be certain if they would recall things identically, or if the things he saw were but metaphor or merely substitution. It was, after all, quite possible, that his human mind had conjured images it would understand and that the reality of his friend's mind was something quite different to what he could recall. He wanted to speak to Legolas of these and other things, but he would be patient.

He could afford patience now. After all, Legolas was well and whole and they were safe in Lothlorien. Even should this fragile peace not last, certainly it was a welcome respite.

Aragorn turned to look at his father and the two shared a smile.

"You have done well, my son." Elrond whispered.

Aragorn cherished the praise from his father. Not that it was rare, for it was not, but because this was a matter that was truly within his father's expertise and which had a strong impact on his future. He knew Elrond would gladly deny his skills as a healer for fear of the fulfillment of the words that would proclaim him King of Gondor.

He understood this as few understood their own destiny. He had often cursed that destiny, wishing fervently that he could be an average man, but now, for the first time in his life, he found himself embracing it.

His eyes found Legolas once more. Cradled in his father's arms, laughing softly, and once more full of life and joy, it was Legolas who had brought Aragorn to this. Legolas had believed in him when he himself could not. Legolas had trusted Eru's design while he had wallowed in doubt. Legolas had brought him to himself.

He smiled and, unable to hold himself back, rose and walked to his friend. Legolas looked up at him expectantly, eyes bright.

__

"Hannon le, mellonin," Aragorn whispered

Legolas only smiled.

"I should be thanking you."

Aragorn shook his head, but before he could speak, Thranduil did.

"It is my family who should thank you, Estel. You have saved us all by saving Legolas. WeI am in your debt." Thranduil had eased his youngest son into his eldest son's arms as he had spoken, and he got easily to his feet. Stepping closer to Aragorn, he embraced the man. "You have returned my son to me. You shall always have my gratitude and be welcome in Mirkwood."

Aragorn stepped back in surprise at King Thranduil's words, but Thranduil smiled at the man.

"Come," Thranduil said to Aglarelen. "We should thank Lord Elrond, Lord Celeborn, and Lady Galadriel for their help."

Aglarelen rose to follow his father, but not before kissing his brother's head and squeezing Aragorn's shoulder as he passed.

Aragorn watched the two go before returning his attention to Legolas. "You look well."

Legolas laughed and Aragorn allowed himself to enjoy the sound.

"I feel well enough, my friend, but I know how I must look!" His eyes danced with unrestrained merriment. "Thank you, Estel. I am quite myself again."

"You did it yourself."

"I could not have done anything had you not shown me the way."

"We must share the accolades."

Legolas acquiesced with a twinkle in his eyes.

Aragorn laughed. "Truly, I have rarely seen you smile so persistently!"

Legolas joined in his friend's laughter. "I am restored, Estel! I heareverything! The song! The Trees! The sound of Arda itself is clearer to my ears than ever it was! I feelagain."

Aragorn sat beside Legolas. Truth be told, he felt more himself than he had ever felt in his life. It was as though, in restoring Legolas, he had found a secret piece of his own soul. The piece that accepted his fate, that would face any future doubts—for he was not fool enough to believe his certainty could not falter—with determination. He sighed in contentment and placed a companionable hand on his friend's shoulder. "As do I, my friend."

Gandalf had watched from a discreet distance as Legolas Thranduilion slowly regained his strength. He felt certain that being in Lothlorien had greatly speeded the young one's recovery, but he could not suppress a nagging suspicion that events in Middle-earth had somehow veered from the path Eru had intended.

approached Legolas cautiously. He had much to discuss with the young prince, but he knew not how to begin. _Best to begin at the beginning_, he counseled himself as he watched Legolas stare up into the night sky.

Taking a deep breath, he addressed his words to the fair elf who had only recently been restored to themto himself. "Ever do you gaze at the stars, Legolas. One might think you had never seen them before." The Grey Wizard seated himself beside the young elf.

Legolas smiled, though he did not take his eyes from the stars. "It is gratitude to Eru, and infatuation with all the beauty he has created that keeps me gazing skyward, Mithrandir."

Gandalf nodded. "You have done much, Legolas, been through much. Yet, though I believe you are in truth enraptured by all of Arda, I sense something else. What troubles you, Greenleaf?"

Legolas had dropped his gaze as well as his voice, which was a whisper no mortal would have heard. "There is a long road ahead, Mithrandir. I was offered some small glimpse of it"

Gandalf waited for Legolas to continue, and, when he didn't, the Grey Wizard spoke. "Is this road you glimpsed something other than you imagined?"

Legolas seemed to consider the words. "Nay, Mithrandir. I had not truly considered the future in such specific terms. It was enough, or so I thought, to believe that things would be as I knew they would. 'Aragorn will become King of Gondor.' I have believed that for a long time, yet I had not considered _how_ such a thing would be achieved." Now the elf turned to the Wizard. "Was it wrong not to consider such things?"

"Wrong?" The Wizard shook his head. "If you fear being unprepared, do not. Your faith in your friend has been as an anchor to him. Your belief has given faith to others, not least of all to Aragorn and his family. How the reclaiming of Gondor is to be achieved has not been important up to now. It is likely that it will be many decades yet before Aragorn must put forth his claim." He laughed lightly. "It is likely that it has not occurred to you before now to ponder the details of this thing because it would have been a pointless activity."

He put a hand on the Prince's shoulder. "Be alert, certainly, Legolas, but a Prince of Mirkwood hardly needs to be told such a thing. As the time draws near, Eru will position his players. You, who have given faith to others, must have faith that you will be called upon when the time is right, and, in that moment, you will know what needs doing."

Legolas smiled at the Wizard, and Gandalf saw renewed confidence within him, but he could not help but be concerned. Legolas had been shown a glimpse of the future. From what little the elf had said, Gandalf could easily imagine that it had been as enlightening as a peek into Galadriel's mirror. If this glimpse troubled the prince, might it not be wise to learn what he had seen?

Of course, had Ilúvatar intended for him to see it, he would have. He shrugged the thought away. He was here in Middle-earth to help. If Legolas needed his help in dealing with what he had seen, Gandalf would offer it.

"Legolas, does something trouble you?"

Gandalf did not miss the way the elf swallowed and blinked before turning back to him.

"Imuch death. Much destruction will rain down upon all of Arda and the making of a King of Gondor will not be a bloodless affair. There will be a war to rival the Last Great Alliance."

Gandalf nodded. It was a troubling notion to anyone, but such thoughts to this particular Elf, one who lived his life with little thought to death and parting from friends, even the mortal ones, were likely to plague him.

Gandalf reached for Legolas and placed a gentle hand on the Prince's shoulder. "Whatever you have seen, it was shown you for a reason. You will be needed, Legolas. You must prepare yourself for the road ahead, but do not let visions of the future consume you. That way lies madness."

The Grey Wizard watched the Elf Prince carefully for some sign of how his words were to be taken. He saw Legolas nod, then, once more, the Prince cast his eyes heavenward and rested on the stars. The pair, with the patience of immortals, watched the night sky for so long a time that they saw it begin to lighten.

As the darkness faded giving way to the light of dawn, Legolas smiled and clapped an exuberant hand upon Gandalf's shoulder. "We have spoken much of the Shadows and the Darkness, Mithrandir, but behold!" He waved a hand to encompass the dawn. "Light encroaches over Darkness each morn!"

Gandalf smiled. Whatever part the Elf would play in the war he had foreseen and in Aragorn's destiny, he would be ready for it, and he would not be alone.

To Be Continued

The next chapter will set up the rather long sequel, on which I am already working. It will, I warn you now, be AU. Thanks for your reviews and encouragement. Stay tuned for the next and final chapter.


	35. Epilogue

****

Encroaching Darkness Epilogue

By Ecri

Galadriel's hand rested on the mithril pitcher she used to fill her mirror. She had had not used it, but she had considered it. There was a future here she would like to see. There was a gathering of clouds, a strengthening of the Shadow, an Encroaching Darkness that seemed to hover just beyond her reach on the barest edge of her perception.

The Enemy was cunning and he was not likely to give up his claim on Middle-earth. He would use what tools he could find, and the Dark Lord was ever adept at manipulation.

Galadriel had long watched Estel and Legolas somehow sensing that their paths would cross, that they together would be greater than each alone. Having them both here within Caras Galadhon strengthened this belief. There was something between the twoa brotherly affection, an easy trust, a bolstering of each other's weaknesses that made them formidable as long as they fought side by side.

She sensed Celeborn's approach, but she said nothing as he seated himself by her side. She felt his hand rest on hers, and she smiled.

"You wish to see something." It was not a question, and Galadriel knew that Celeborn would be warring with himself wishing to know that all would be well, yet not trusting the mirror's images enough to find its message comforting.

She shook her head. "I thought I did, but I find it unnecessary." She turned to face him and smiled though it did not reach her eyes. "They are young."

He nodded. "They are that, but they are growing. The next age will be"

"The Age of Men." She whispered the words, not apologizing for the interruption, but he seemed not to mind.

"Elessar will make a good King."

She nodded. She would not look within her mirror, but that was more for the sake of her own sanity. There were some things that even the wisest should not see.

Celeborn had not needed to search for Galadriel. He had known where he would find her. How could he not? His heart was ever hers as hers was ever his, though, in truth, in many ways, she was a mystery to him. He sometimes believed he could offer her no comfort, and that his words, though meant as a counsel, could not reach her.

He had never in his long life spoken of these thoughts, either to her or to another. He would keep them with him all his life, perhaps to speak of if they ever reached the Undying Lands, or perhaps not. If she were not permitted to sail, he would remain with her, for such was his love.

Galadriel's own foresight, sometimes aided by her mirror but often not, caused a sorrow in her eyes that she could not escape. The future, after all, was always in motion, and seeing some sign of it did not mean you saw the true end.

He had long ago pledged–without her knowledge–that he would stand by her when her gift manifested itself so as to offer support.

Seeing her now, sitting by the mirror, one hand resting on her pitcher, he knew she had denied herself a look at some future, and he was glad. Mostly, he was glad for her, because seeing such things often upset her. He was, however, also glad because, with the guests currently enjoying the hospitality of the Golden Wood, it was not hard to imagine whose future she most wanted to see.

He saw little point in it. The future would become past soon enough. That was one lesson every elf learned at a tender age.

He sat by her side. He knew she sensed his approach as he seated himself by her side, and he saw her smile as he reached for her hand.

"You wish to see something." Celeborn knew this to be so, and was surprised when she shook her head.

"I thought I did, but I find it unnecessary." He watched her carefully as she turned to face him, and he saw the expected sorrow in her eyes. "They are young."

He nodded. "They are that, but they are growing. The next age will be"

"The Age of Men."

He heard her whisper and knew there was a fear in her heart that Arda would come undone in the hands of men. He sought to assuage her worry.

"Elessar will make a good King."

He knew she agreed with that statement at least, but he was not surprised when she did not reply.

Elladan and Elrohir shared a companionable silence in the early morning stillness of Lothlorien. Elladan's recent worries over both his brothers had taken a toll on him. It was a relief to know–as only a twin can know–that Elrohir was well. They needed no words to understand that whatever had been wrong with Elrohir had been erased. It simply felt better.

Lord Elrond's oldest son had worried over the possibility of losing his twin since he had been old enough to learn of Elros' fate. That his uncle had chosen the fate of men did not surprise him. Elladan could see the attraction of such a life.

Still the dread of suffering the loss that Elladan even now saw in his father's eyes had been enough to prompt the two to make a pact. The decision of one would be the fate of both. They had put off the decision certainly, but the knowledge that they would abide by the same choice was enough to restore equilibrium and make their days together easier. There was strength in this decision, and neither would alter it, for life without his twin was unthinkable for both.

Elladan had feared that Elrohir would be taken from him when he had realized his brother was unwell. He knew it would have killed him, and the knowledge had brought an old thought back to his mind. How had his father survived the loss of his own twin?

It did not seem possible to Elladan.

He had once had the nerve to ask Elrond about it, but the reply had not eased his mind.

"I have responsibilities here, Elladan. I could not indulge myself."

He had said little else, and, to Elladan, it had seemed to imply that, if Elrond ever felt his responsibilities had been discharged, he would then give in to grief.

Of course, with Naneth in Valinor, Ada would be most likely to sail to the west in the hopes of finding there the peace that eluded him here.

Elladan looked to Elrohir and whispered a silent thanks to Eru that he did not yet have to face what his father bore even now.

Aragorn watched from a discreet distance as Legolas let fly arrow after arrow at the target Haldir had set up for him. Aragorn had suspected Legolas didn't really need practice, but it was a joy to see his friend doing what he loved unhindered by either infirmities or spells.

He saw the satisfaction on his friend's face as Legolas hit the target time after time, and he was not the least surprised when Legolas called to him, though, up until that moment, the Elf Prince had not even hinted that he was aware that Aragorn was hovering nearby.

"Come, Aragorn! I would try my knife skillsfor I have not touched them in far too long."

Aragorn went to his friend. "I should realize by now that I cannot hide my presence from you, _mellonin_."

"Yes, you should." Legolas laughed as he slung his bow across his back for he liked to practice as he would fight in a true battle, with bow and arrows upon his back.

The friends drew their weapons, and Aragorn divorced himself of any notion of admiration of the Elf's skill, for he had learned in practicing with his brothers that such admiration would merely distract him and make him an easy target.

Aragorn had no notion how long they fought, but when finally they called a halt, both were flushed from the exercise.

"You have no need to worry over your knife skills, Legolas. They are as impressive as ever they were." Aragorn said as he settled down to clean and sharpen his blade.

Legolas settled beside his friend to do the same with his knives. "I am please to know it, Aragorn, and your own skills are just as impressive."

The two worked in silence for some time enjoying the rhythm of the movements and the challenge to prove their own skills.

Aragorn was not at all startled to find that his friend's skills were much sharper than he had been led to believe. Legolas set high standards for himself, likely because, among elves, he was usually the youngest, the least experienced. Yet, for all that, he moved through the battle with the grace of a dancer. No wasted movement, no muscle twitched without the permission of its owner. Legolas grew more confident with each moment that passed.

Much as Aragorn's own confidence grewin his abilities, in his destiny, and in his choices.

It was such a startling revelation, that Aragorn had to back away and end the fight.

Confusion clouded Legolas' face. "What has happened? Estel? Are you ill?"

Aragorn shook his head. "Nay, gwadornin, I am well. I" He smiled broadly. "I merely note how we both improve, Legolas! How much we have both improved on this trip!

Legolas grinned and it was enough to tell Aragorn that Legolas did indeed understand.

They resumed their practice.

The trees had long ago stopped their singing, or rather altered their song. No longer telling tales of endless carefree days, of reaching long limbs up toward the sun and stars, of enjoying the sight and sound and feel of happiness as elves and others of Eru's creation cavorted among their trunks and branches. No, the trees of Taur-e-Ndaedelos, now known in the Common Tongue as Mirkwood, sang a more ominous song. Fear, shadow, evil, darkness and the end of all things–these were the things of which Mirkwood's trees sang.

The trees knew the lay of the land far better than those who dwelled beneath their limbs. Only one favored son of Mirkwood knew all that they knew. The trees that surrounded the palace of Mirkwood's King much rejoiced to have the King's youngest son laughing and leaping through their limbs, but it had been many months since that happiness had permeated the Former Greenwood. What had befallen their favorite Woodelf, the trees spent long hours discussing. They knew of a dark spell, one that had stolen something vital from the Prince, but that was all they knew.

They had heard tales that had traveled from tree to tree through most of Arda. They had heard tales from Imladris. Some word even reached them from the Golden Wood, though they wondered how much truth could be left in a tale that had come such a distance.

They believed their Prince was well, for they believed they would feel his passing. They also believed that their King and his family would keep the child safe.

Of course, having lived for centuries upon centuries, they knew that safety was a relative thing.

When the cloaked figure had left Isengard, the trees along the route it had chosen passed along the information with nary a thought of what it might portend for the future. Trees are observant, but do not plan or ponder the future. To them, each day is much as the last and the passions of the more mobile of Eru's creations meant little.

The cloaked figure's progress was noticed, perhaps commented upon, but the trees outside of Mirkwood had little call to wonder about intention. It was the trees of Mirkwood that wondered. When the figure reached the Palace, more than one of the Prince's favorite trees leaned closer to learn more. When the familiar figure of Oropherin greeted the figure, it threw back its cloak revealing the White Wizard Saruman.

"Saruman, Mirkwood is honored by your visit, but my father is not here"

Saruman waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Your father is well. When I left him, he and your brothers were in the company of Celeborn, Galdriel, and Elrond. They have gone to the Golden Wood."

"Is Legolas" Oropherin faltered over his words.

"I am here on your brother's behalf. I have been asked to look through my ancient texts for some clue what has happened to him. I have found a spell that might counter his condition, but it requires that I use some personal itemsomething he might have used frequently or worn"

Oropherin nodded. "Come, I will take you to his rooms. Certainly there will be something there."

Saruman followed the Prince. He made small talk, but his mind was not on what he said. He was instead contemplating his plans. There were many spells that required some personal article to work properly, and, while Saruman had many in mind, he would never have a better time to acquire something again. With three of the five members of the Royal Family away in Lothlorien, it would be easy enough to deceive the remaining two, and, if it were mentioned to Thranduil upon his return, what of it? The elves had indeed sent Saruman away hoping he would find something within his tomes to help the young one.

Their steps had slowed and Saruman looked at the large doors before him. It was carved intricately, elves being unable to leave even a door undecorated, and the carvings seemed relevant to the life of the Prince. Saruman would have studied it in the hopes of learning more about him. He could not say why he prized this elf above the others he had known, but there was something within him that spoke of this elf, this Legolas, as the key to the coming strife. There was somesome innate quality of this youngest of elven princes that could spell victory for one side or the other, and Saruman meant to make certain his own supremacy. He would rule even over Sauroneven over Eru. Saruman smiled a death's head smile. He followed Oropherin and began to search through the belongings scattered about the room hoping to find one the one possession that would aid him in turning the Prince into a pawn.

A single rider left the Golden Wood on a journey he'd put off for much too long. Having satisfied himself that Aragorn, Legolas, Elrohir, and Glorfindel were all well, Gandalf headed northwest toward a far distant part of Middle-earth. He had been too long away from the Shire, and believed he should check in on his old friend Bilbo Baggins. He wasn't at all sure Bilbo would be please to see him, since the last time he'd been at Bag End had been to give the Hobbit a bit of a nudge out of the door to accompany Thorin.

That had been a good dozen years ago. Surely, he'd be welcome by now.

He wasn't certain what had put it in his head to look in on Bilbo, but Gandalf was one who believed that what some called 'whim' was actually a guiding suggestiona nudge out of the door from a much higher power.

The further he traveled outside of the Golden Wood, the further he went from Celeborn and Galadriel's influence, the more he sensed it. He halted his steed and sniffed the air like a Ringwraith, though the comparison sent shivers down his spine. There was something growing on the wind. There was something

He brushed the thought away. Perhaps things would become clearer when he reached the Shire. If they did not, he would merely wait for another divine nudge. He had no doubt he would end up where he was meant to beeven if the road diverged from what Ilúvatar originally intended.

Satisfied with his thinking, he began to sing softly to himself.

Mordor's darkness grew and deepened as he who ruled Mordor felt his own impotent rage grow and deepen.

Screams of rage echoed across the dark lands and every Orc within hearing shuddered and cowered in fear.

The Great Eye felt only frustration. He could not see his prey. He could not be sure the Line of Kings had been successfully broken. He had been certain that the one who could be his undoing was yet alive, but now, his certainty faded. The One Ring was what he sought, but there was no sign of it.

That the Future King of Gondor held the Ring he had been certain, yet, now that certainty bled away. Perhaps the Steward of Gondor retained the Ring

The thought surprised him for it had not occurred to him before, and, though he pondered it momentarily, Sauron knew that the Steward was not so strong-willed that he could keep the Ring so close to Mordor and not give away its presence.

No. Ecthelion could not possess the Ring.

Sauron would need to expand his search. He would need Saruman.

He would not sit idly by. His plans were many, and he would see them to fruition.

Gondor was the weak link. Gondor and its line of Stewards, men denied the vain privilege of calling themselves Kings, could easily be made to seize power for themselves or be tricked into seeing themselves as the last line of defense or the last hope of their White City.

Sauron would find the Ring. He would defeat the Dunedan who might try to defeat him. In the end, he would be victorious, for there was no creature in Middle-earth capable of besting him. Not Isildur's heir, and not any mere mortal man could destroy him. He allowed his own power to flood through him, and he savored it.

It was growing. One day, he would unleash it upon Arda.

The End

Watch for the sequel.

Thanks to everyone who has read this over the past six months, especially through the long lulls between chapters brought on by everything from computer troubles, writer's block, and an illness in the family. Your encouragement means the world to me.

Please watch for the sequel. I will post that as soon as I have finished my Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic, A Pirate's Life and Death. It won't be too long, I promise.

Thanks once again, and please remember to let me know how you like this rather long tale.

Ecri


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